30 Drabbles
by GemNika
Summary: Assorted, stand-alone Fairy Tail drabbles with prompts from tumblr. Crack-pairings galore, mostly Lucy-pairings. The rating (ranging from T to M) and pairing will change in the description to reflect the most recent chapter. (Chapter 15: Freed/Lucy, Lucy & Sting Rated M for dark, triggering content)
1. Beginning

**A/N: So there was this thing on tumblr that I saw because of** _ **LittlePrincessNana**_ **. A 30-day drabble challenge by** _ **hawkwardeye**_ **. Write something for every single day, with different prompts. I figured, why not? Except, I'm not going to stick to the traditional** _ **drabble**_ **distinction of 100 words. We all know I can't do that lol.**

 **These won't be connected, I don't think. They might even be different pairings for each one. I won't know until I write them. I'll be sure to put the pairing and rating on each one, though.**

 **Now, even though I have all 30 prompts, these will take a little time to write. The updates might be sporadic, but all of them will eventually be written. Pairings in the description will reflect the most recent posted chapter.**

 **So, let's get started. You can thank** _ **Leoslady4ever**_ **for this pairing.**

* * *

 _ **Beginning  
**_ _Bickslow x Levy  
Rated T_

* * *

He hated libraries.

Bickslow hated them so much, he had been tempted to burn a few down just so he wouldn't be stuck like he was right then. He didn't care if this was a part of the guild, or how old some of the books were. He wanted them all gone.

And the fact that he was considering arson, and that his inner monologue probably sounded a whole lot like Natsu's really didn't faze the Seith mage. Because he was sure that anyone would be ready to set some books on fire if they were trapped in a chair by Freed's runes, unable to leave, with no one to even fucking _talk to_ for the next few hours. The asshole even took his babies when he'd left, saying that they could enjoy some time away from the library and all the research the team had been doing for the last two days straight.

It wasn't like Bickslow was even helping to begin with.

And he definitely wasn't helping right then. First off, he didn't want to. This was Freed's part, his forte, not Bickslow's. Second, his hands were practically fused to the damn chair with runes winding around them, up his arms, across his chest and even down his legs. He couldn't even tap his fucking feet! And the worst part of it all was that Freed had made a special rule so that he couldn't speak unless spoken to; specifically, unless he was asked a question.

His mouth was sealed shut.

Okay, so maybe asking questions every few seconds had gotten on Freed's nerves. And just _maybe_ he should probably have avoided licking the inside of Freed's ear when he'd been ignored. It wasn't a sexual thing, it was just… Bickslow really didn't like it when people ignored him. Sure, Freed was reading something and it was most likely stupidly important to their upcoming job, and yes Evergreen and Laxus were both reading as well, and there had been a stack of books that Bickslow had been assigned… But was it really his fault that he just didn't like to read?

This wouldn't have been so bad if he could watch a clock or something. But all he could see were books. And more books. He couldn't even turn his head to look somewhere else, and if he had to read the spines from _A. Halifax_ through _F. Kortenwald_ one more time, Bickslow was going to lose touch with his sanity.

The door opened and closed. Soft steps padded closer, lighter than Freed's or Laxus' and lacking the clack of heels for Evergreen.

Who else actually came into the library? He was pretty sure no one in the guild really knew the damn thing was here. With how many times the building had been destroyed, even _he_ was surprised it was still standing.

"Oh! Um… Sorry."

God, he wished he could just move, just turn his head and look over his shoulder to the quiet feminine voice that he really couldn't place. It wasn't Wendy, he knew that much. But it was definitely quieter than Erza or Lucy.

He probably looked like a fucking lunatic, just sitting here and staring at the stacks.

Oh well. People thought he was a lunatic already.

"Uh… alright. I'm just getting a book, so I'll be out of your hair in a minute." She laughed quietly. "Of course I'm getting a book… this is a library."

Oh, how he wanted to say that she could be looking for a good time. Or for a knight in shining armor. Or visor, in his case. Bickslow listened as her footsteps receded off to his right. She was going to the end of the alphabet, then.

He wasn't sure how long went by with him simply listening to quiet shifting off in the distance, books sliding from shelves only to be put back. The soft scratch of a ladder over the dusty floor, then how she stepped onto it for a moment and got back down.

By the time she returned, Bickslow realized he needed to pee. And when she walked in front of him, he realized it was Levy. Freed's fellow bookworm. And the guy's ex-girlfriend.

That would explain why she'd acted that way upon seeing him in the library. Levy most likely thought Freed was around here somewhere, and Bickslow knew that she'd been trying to avoid the Rune mage since their breakup three months prior. From what he'd gathered - through Evergreen, of course, because it would have been weird for Bickslow to show any interest in that - Freed ended the relationship. There had also, apparently, been lots of crying from Levy over the whole thing.

Levy searched the stacks again and again. She paced back and forth in front of him, and he couldn't really stop himself from watching how her slim fingers brushed away a few errant strands of hair. Or how her dress rode up a little bit when she reached higher.

Bickslow's eyes strayed higher to her slender shoulders. He could just picture letting his lips trail across her pale flesh toward the white guild mark on her shoulder blade, tracing it with his tongue. Damnit all, he couldn't think about that! There was no way for him to hide a boner if he couldn't move.

"Oh, where is it?" Levy huffed. "I knew it was here a couple days ago."

If only he could ask what she was looking for.

She turned and screamed when she saw Bickslow still sitting in the same place. She couldn't see his eyes past the slats of his visor though, so the Script mage had no idea he'd rolled them at her reaction.

He wasn't _that_ scary.

"Bickslow, I forgot you were there."

He was silent, but really, he wished he could just say something already.

"Um… Okay." She frowned at him in confusion then turned back toward the books. Another few minutes passed with him simply watching her and trying not to fantasize about laying her out on a nearby table and sticking his face between her legs. Finally, she whirled in place with her hands on her hips. "Alright, stop staring at me," she said. "I can feel you doing it."

He still said nothing.

"This is really creepy, Bickslow," Levy said. "Did Freed put you up to this?"

"No." Damn, he'd been hoping he could get a little more out than just the one word, since she'd asked him a question. Fucking Freed and his stupid fucking smart brain! There had to have been a rule in there that made it so Bickslow could only answer what he was asked, nothing else.

"Then why are you just sitting there?"

"Freed did it." God-fucking-damnit. That was the perfect question! Why hadn't he said more than that?

"Well, cut it out," Levy said, turning back to the books again. "If you don't have anything to do, then just go somewhere else."

Bickslow still said nothing. He didn't move. Instead, he got to watch Levy disappear from his line of sight, still looking at the books, then return several minutes later with her hands covering her face in what he was sure was sheer frustration.

"Well, if you're just going to sit there, you could at least help me," she sighed.

"..."

"I need to find _Questing for Quibbles: Quixotic Queries_."

"..." If she'd ask him a goddamn question, he could help!

"I'm just looking for some light reading." That was bullshit, he'd seen that fucking book and it was huge! "And someone told me it was a great read."

Which meant Freed told her about it. The Rune mage had held onto that book for two months before finally bringing it back to the guild's library.

"Bickslow, do you think you could help me find it?"

"Definitely."

She smiled then. God, he'd always thought her smile was breathtaking. He might not have recognized her voice right away, but he wasn't obsessed with her. Levy was just beautiful to him. He'd spent more time than he cared to admit looking at her from across the guild. Always with her nose in a book, much like Freed.

"Well, let's go," she said, walking back toward the stacks again. "It's probably somewhere I can't reach, and you're tall enough to be able to get up to the higher shelves without a ladder, so-" Levy paused and peeked around the shelves, frowning when she saw that Bickslow still hadn't moved. "Are you coming?"

"I can't."

"What?"

"I can't come."

"Um… why?"

Oh, thank fucking god! "Because Freed used his runes to tie me to this stupid chair."

She laughed and made her way over to him. And even though Bickslow could just picture her turning into a little sex kitten and taking advantage of his bound body by stripping him and riding him right there, he knew she wouldn't. Levy was too innocent for things like that.

"You poor thing," she laughed. Her smile fell when he didn't laugh along with her, when his tongue didn't loll from between his lips. "Oh, I didn't mean to upset you, Bickslow."

"..."

"Should I just leave you alone?" she whispered.

"Please don't," he sighed.

Levy bit her lip and came closer, taking a seat on the table just beside him. He couldn't turn his head to look at her though. "You must have really aggravated him, huh?"

"That's an understatement," he smirked.

"Well, I hope you'll still help me find that book."

"..."

"Bickslow, why do you do that?"

"I'm only allowed to answer questions," he groaned. God it was painful having to follow these stupid rules.

"So if I don't ask you a question, then you're stuck?"

"That's the slim jimmy of it," he said.

"Well, do you know where I can find that book?"

"Yes."

Levy waited, then laughed quietly. "Okay, so where can I find that book?"

Bickslow let out a heavy sigh, his gaze lifting to the top shelf. "Up there under _G. Hortenshertz_."

"Why do you know that?" Levy giggled.

"I've been sitting here for three hours and I can't move."

"Well, if I get you out of this, will you help me?"

"If you get me out of this, I'll kiss you." He wasn't kidding either. Bickslow was desperate to get out of this damn chair. And he definitely wanted to kiss the little blue-haired mage.

"O-Oh, you don't… Um…" He would have laughed when her cheeks flamed. "That's just silly. Just a thank you is enough."

"..."

She paused, biting her lip one more time. "Bickslow?"

"Yeah, Levster?" He definitely didn't miss the shy smile she tried to hide by ducking her head.

"Freed told me something, and I want to know if it's true…"

He would have told her that Freed wasn't a liar, so if he'd said something to her, then it was most definitely the truth.

"He said he had to break up with me, because of you."

Oh, Freed was a rat fucking bastard! Also, Bickslow was definitely glad that he had _not_ said a thing about Freed not lying.

"He told me that you were interested in me, and he didn't feel right being in a relationship and forcing you to watch us being together," Levy said. "Is any of that true?"

And even though he could have said something, Bickslow was silent. He knew by the look in her eyes that she wasn't going to drop it. One of the things he liked about Levy was how smart she was. He might not have been interested in books in the slightest, but he was definitely interested in her.

"Bickslow, I know you can talk when I ask a question," she said. "So, is it true?"

"I don't know why Freed broke up with you, Levy," he said.

"Is what he said about _you_ true?"

"..."

"Would Freed ever lie to someone?" she asked, though he missed the cunning smirk on her lips.

"Of course not. Freed's not a liar."

"So he told me the truth about you liking me," she giggled. She knew he couldn't say anything, but she didn't need him to. Instead, Levy took out her magic pen and started undoing the runes keeping Bickslow from speaking. Once it was finished, she sat back and smiled at the Seith mage. "Try talking now."

Bickslow licked his lips and smiled. He stuck out his tongue, stretching it to its full length and fighting not to laugh at Levy's quiet squeak. "Thanks, Levster," he said. "You're awesome."

"Sometimes," she laughed. "Now, tell me what happened to make him lock you in this trap. It seems a bit extensive for your usual silliness."

Bickslow wouldn't find out until months later that Freed had done this as a way to force him to confront his feelings for Levy, because he knew she would be in the library that day. Just like Bickslow wouldn't find out until the following week that Levy wanted to date him, and that this was their beginning. So, while he was still tied to a chair, he told her the story of what he'd done to get in that position.

"Well," he said, forgetting all about the ache in his bladder, "It all started with Laxus and…"

 _ **.The End.**_


	2. Accusation

**A/N: And here we are for day 2. I'm having so much fun writing these! Not really sure if this fits with the prompt, but whatever. And just to make things easier, the titles for the chapters are also the prompts. They're all just one-word prompts, so it makes it easier for me. I don't have to think of some snazzy title lol.**

 **So, the format is _Prompt, Pairing, Rating_.**

* * *

 _ **Accusation**_ _  
Laxus x Lucy  
Rated T_

* * *

He closed the front door, frowning when only silence met him. He could smell the cleaning that had been done while he was at work - wood polish, the dust kicked up from the vacuum, that weird purple all-purpose cleaner she always used on the floors - and after kicking his shoes off and setting his briefcase down just inside the front door, he could see that the house was immaculate.

Everything was in its place. The only problem was that he couldn't smell anything cooking. It wasn't that he expected dinner to be on the table when he got home, or for his wife to have a glass of scotch at the ready once he walked in the door. Lucy was just a creature of habit, and this was about the time she would be cooking.

"Lucy," he called out, loosening his burgundy tie. She wasn't in the kitchen or dining room, not in the living room. He couldn't hear their sixteen-year-old daughter in her room either. The master bedroom was empty.

Maybe he'd forgotten something. With things at his grandfather's company being so hectic lately, between opening new orphanages across the country and having to contain the morons they'd so lovingly nicknamed Team Natsu, he'd become a little too prone to forgetting things around the house. If it wasn't in his calendar on both his computer and phone, and if his assistant Freed didn't know about it, then he was more likely to not remember it.

"Writing desk," he muttered, turning and taking long strides through the house to Lucy's office space in the corner of the living room. The top was cleared off, with even her computer put away, but he didn't care about that. Only the calendar hanging on the wall that she always used instead of saving it in the calendar on her damn phone like a normal human.

 _Thursday, March 16th. Leann's Ballet Recital, 6:30_

"Fuck me."

Laxus looked down at his watch, cringing when he saw it was already nearly seven at night. He'd been caught in traffic, all thanks to some crash on the highway. If luck was on his side, he'd be able to make it to the recital before it was done.

It was while he was pulling his shoes back on and running out the door that Laxus pulled his vibrating phone from his breast pocket. He scowled at the sight of Freed's name on the screen, but answered it just the same. "Dreyar."

"Laxus, I hope you didn't forget about the recital." Freed's voice was hushed. Far too quiet.

"I wouldn't have if you'd reminded me, Freed."

"I reminded you before you left the office."

"Yeah, well some idiot flipped over the median on the highway," Laxus groaned, slamming the door and locking it. "I got distracted…"

"You should call Lucy," Freed sighed. "I'm sure she will be-" Laxus nearly laughed when his assistant huffed with irritation. "No, madam, excuse _you_. The recital is _delayed_ , which means I'm at liberty to speak on my phone, if I so choose. Which I do."

Laxus let out a sigh of relief at that news. Luck was most definitely on his side tonight. Maybe he could make it before it even started, and actually see the whole thing for a change. From what Lucy had told him, Leann was the lead. She was the beautiful swan in the nearly three hour production of Swan Lake.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he said while getting into the car. "Just… Find Lucy and tell her I'm caught in traffic."

"If you don't have your briefcase with you, she'll know when you get home."

"Shit, Freed-"

"I will handle it, Laxus," Freed said, and he could hear the smile on his assistant's lips through the line. "Your grandfather asked you to bring a gift home for Leann, and you didn't realize you'd left it at the office until you got home. I will buy her something and give it to you at work in the morning."

"You're a fucking lifesaver," Laxus turned in his seat and started backing out of the driveway. "I'll see you soon." The line cut off and the sudden sound of a blaring horn caught his attention. Laxus turned back to look out of the driver window, his bright blue eyes widening against the glare of headlights flying toward him, moments before a pickup truck slammed into his car and sent it flying into the air and down the street.

* * *

"Laxus, I swear to god, you'd better call me back. And don't give me some lame excuse this time about why you're late!" Lucy scowled down at the phone as she hung up. She stood backstage with Leann and the other dancers who were warming up.

"Mom, is everything okay?"

"Daddy's not answering," she said. "He probably forgot again."

"He means well," Leann sighed. "Gramps said he's been working really hard lately. I think we can cut him some slack."

"Sure," Lucy said. "Except he promised to be here. Freed says he's on his way, but…" She paused and raised a brow at the odd number calling her. "Lucy Dreyar."

Leann frowned when her mother's face fell and went a startling shade of white. "Mom?"

"What do you mean, an accident?"

"Mom, what's going on?"

"I-I understand… Yes…" Lucy's eyes cut to her daughter, filling with tears faster than she could blink them away. "Sweetie, go find Freed. Now. It's… Y-Yes, I'm still here."

Leann didn't question why her mother turned away from her, or why she started talking faster while taking several steps away. Instead, she turned and rushed to the side of the stage and slipped out from behind the heavy red curtain, already searching for the familiar head of green hair of her father's assistant in the audience. She found him in the same spot he always sat - the very center with two empty seats to his left for her parents, the spot with the best acoustics in the whole auditorium.

"Oh, Leann, you look lovely!"

"Knock 'em dead, Leann!"

She ignored the other parents and guests, her eyes locked on Freed as he stood and rushed past the other seats to meet her in the aisle. "F-Freed, it's mom. I-I don't… She got a call and…"

He simply nodded, pressing his hand to her lower back and leading her down to the stage once again. Once they were backstage, the pair found Lucy sitting in a corner on the floor, curled up in a ball and clutching her phone in a deadly grip while she tried to keep her sobs silent.

"Lucy, what's happened?" Freed gasped, rushing forward and kneeling beside her.

"Hospital," she cried. "L-Laxus was… and… critical condition, and…"

"Wait," Leann said, "You mean Daddy got into an accident?" When Lucy simply nodded and let herself be wrapped in Freed's arms, Leann turned to find her dance instructor. It was one of the few times she was glad to be more like her father. It meant, just like him, she could take control and deal with the cracking in her heart when she had time to do it. "Mister Vijeeter, I have to go. Tell Carrie she can do it. She's my understudy for a reason."

* * *

"He should be waking up soon, Mrs. Dreyar," the nurse said. He gently rested a hand on Lucy's trembling shoulder, watching as she tenderly stroked her husband's fingers were they peeked out of his full arm cast. "He was very lucky."

Lucy nodded, blotting at the tears streaking down her cheeks. She hardly noticed the nurse leave. Instead, she stayed focused on the steady _beep-beep-beep_ of the heart monitor just next to Laxus' bed. Thankfully, Makarov had come to the hospital and taken Leann to his house. Sure, she was old enough to be here and to understand why Laxus was in the ICU, but Lucy knew that her daughter wouldn't let herself feel a thing while she was at the hospital.

Just like her father, Leann had mastered bottling things up until she felt it was safe to deal with them. And thankfully, also like Laxus, the short old man who had taken her away from the hospital was her one weakness. If anyone could get Leann to just let herself react to this, it would be Makarov.

Lucy took a slow, shuddering breath as she looked to Laxus' swollen face, past the thick white brace the doctors had put around his neck to keep it steady. He wasn't paralyzed, they'd told her. A few broken bones - his left arm from the shoulder to his wrist was shattered, his left femur, a sprain in his right wrist - some cuts and scrapes from the glass on his hands, maybe whiplash. He'd been lucky, they'd said, that his seatbelt was on. She knew he was, because the car was totalled, completely crunched in on itself, and paramedics had to cut the thing open just to get her hulking husband out.

She was tempted to touch his cheek, the stitches running over the right side of his face, but Lucy held back.

He was lucky not to need a breathing tube. He was lucky there was no internal bleeding.

He was lucky that he'd even survived in the first place.

And she'd been so angry with him before getting that call from the hospital. She'd been so sure he'd forgotten again, and that he would miss their daughter's debut as the prima ballerina in her dance company's production. Sure, it was no Juilliard, but Leann loved dancing and every performance was important.

Laxus knew that. Lucy knew that he knew that. Because no matter how many times she happened to forget that he cared - usually when it came to his utter forgetfulness - Laxus was wholly devoted to his family. He tried, and damnit she wanted him to wake up so she could tell him just how much she loved him for being a wonderful father.

Freed had told her the truth when he'd stopped by, that Laxus really had forgotten all about the recital until he'd gotten home and found no one there. That he'd been so upset about possibly not making it to see Leann perform.

"Fuck…"

Lucy swiped away her tears and plastered on her best smile - though it really wasn't all that convincing, she knew - but his eyes stayed closed. She didn't blame him. One just wouldn't open with all the swelling in his face, and things like light in the room were a bitch when waking up after surgery. "Laxus…"

His fingers twitched in her hand, and she fought not to hold on tighter.

"Baby?"

"Right here," she sniffled.

"Tell me I'm not…" He groaned, the beeping of his heart monitor speeding up only slightly before calming again. "I'm okay?"

"Y-Yeah," she said. "You'll be okay. We're in the hospital."

"The dance?"

"Carrie took Leann's place," Lucy whispered.

"But she…"

"She cares more about you than being in Swan Lake. Gramps took her home after you got out of surgery." When his eye finally opened, Lucy had to fight not to cry. He looked so tired, so fragile. So unlike the man she'd fallen in love with well over twenty years prior, when they were still in high school.

"I forgot again," he whispered.

"I don't care about that," she said. Her hand lifted to his cheek, being careful not to touch the sutures. "And neither does she. All we care about is that you're alright."

"But I'm okay…"

"Yeah, handsome." She smiled while bringing her lips to his in a soft kiss and didn't move away when she spoke again. "You're okay."

 _ **.The End.**_


	3. Restless

**A/N: I've yet to write for this pairing… I guess it's about time I did.**

 **Chapter 525 spoilers, sorta. I guess. I wrote this the day the chapter came out, so… There's that. And even though I read chapter 526 before posting this... I'm not changing it. So, the "big reveal" and anything that happened in _that_ chapter is not discussed in this story.**

* * *

 _ **Restless  
**_ _Larcade x Lucy  
Rated T/M_

* * *

He knew this feeling all too well, and though his magic had the ability to end the uncomfortable shifting across soft blue sheets in the darkened room, Larcade did nothing. He'd learned that it wasn't his place to do things like that unless she asked him to.

With his father gone and the war between their countries finished, Larcade had been alone. He'd tried so hard to be just who Zeref wanted, had sacrificed everything, even his own body, for his father's goal. And in the end, it was the lighter side of himself that had won out in the form of pale blonde hair and wide, calculating green eyes.

He could see how his father had fallen in love with her though. Mavis was beautiful, the embodiment of everything good in this world. She was everything Zeref wasn't.

A soft sigh brushed across his chest. His eyes opened to gaze down at the woman who had rolled to be closer to his warmth. She was the reason he had a place to call home now. A Celestial mage, of all things.

He didn't want to remember the end of the war, watching Natsu rip Zeref apart through a small gap in the pink wool surrounding him. He didn't want to think about the breathless moments he'd waited for his own uncle to fall over dead as well. But he'd seen it in his father's onyx eyes - the fact that they'd shifted back to that deep color instead of the deadly red they'd been before was telling enough - that sheer joy at Natsu's success.

Larcade hadn't known Zeref wanted to die all this time.

"Natsu… why are you in my bed?"

He found a smile lifting his lips only slightly at the tired grumble. "Not Natsu," he whispered. She tensed for only a moment, then seemed to recognize his voice and let her body melt against him.

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"I sleep because I'm human," she smiled. Her eyes stayed closed. "And you should get some rest, too."

"I mean this," he said. His arm slid across her waist and he drew her closer. It wasn't that Larcade didn't understand the concept of holding another person. He did. He knew why people did it and the mechanics behind it. And she knew that he wanted to know why she did this with _him_.

"Because of who your family is," she said. Her arm wrapped around him in turn, slender fingers glided effortlessly up his spine.

"I don't understand."

"First told me, when I offered to let you stay here, that Zeref probably didn't show you much in the way of affection."

"... No, he didn't."

"Something so simple," she sighed. He was still and silent while she shifted higher so they shared the pillow and she could look into his eyes. "Comfort, Larcade. It's about being there for someone else. You love friendship, and now you're in Fairy Tail. But you still have a lot to learn."

He was fully aware of that. Just as he knew part of the reason he'd been sent to live with Lucy was so that his uncle - who had miraculously _not_ crept into her room that night - could keep an eye on him. He didn't fault the guild for not trusting him. He would have done the same thing, had their roles been reversed.

He didn't flinch when her hand lifted and her fingers brushed across his cheek, as he had the first time she'd tried touching him. He let her move his head down to rest just beneath her collarbone.

"Can I just hold you?" she whispered.

"Why?"

She smiled and nestled her nose in his hair while he shifted to get more comfortable. He could hear the slow, steady beat of her heart, her even breaths. He tried not to shiver when her nails danced along his scalp. "Because that's what friends do," she whispered. "We take care of each other."

"And we're friends?"

"I'd like to think so," she laughed. "It's time to think about our next adventure though. I know Mavis told you that Fairy Tail is an adventure. And it is. We're all family, and we're all friends. We're nakama, Larcade, and that includes you."

Sometimes he wondered - though it happened much more often now that he had been with Fairy Tail for the past week - why he couldn't have been raised by his mother instead. He wondered how different things would have been if he'd felt love from those around him, and not just the fear of his power and cold disdain from his father.

Larcade had grown up loving Zeref with everything he had. He'd grown up hating the salmon-haired man who he'd believed was his uncle, all because he'd thought he would never be able to get out from beneath Natsu's shadow. But he'd been wrong, to a point. And it had taken being beaten into the ground by the man who had raised him to see the that.

* * *

"Don't get in my way."

Larcade tumbled out of the guild, feeling each step and stone his body crashed into. When he finally stopped, lying in a helpless mass on the ground just beneath the archway leading to Fairy Tail, he could hardly see. The pain of his father's attack was too great. The hole blown through his chest bled too heavily.

This was where it all ended for him. "F-Father," he whimpered. He could still be useful. He could still help. He'd crawled just to get here, and if he had to do it again, he would.

As long as he could help to finally rid the world of his uncle, then no one could stop them. Fairy Heart could be used to set them all free. His head lifted and his vision wavered on the open doors to Fairy Tail. Blackness clouded in around the edges, but he wouldn't stop trying. He would _never_ stop trying to show that he was worth so much more than Natsu.

The ground rumbled beneath him, but Larcade simply held an arm around his bleeding chest to keep himself intact. He cried out in agony when he finally found enough purchase to slide forward, the dust and loose stones scraping viciously along his wound.

"Father, please," he whispered, his head dropping to the ground while he fought back tears. "Please let me…"

Thudding footsteps drew closer. Several shot past him, seemingly unaware of his presence. When Larcade looked up, his blurred gaze fell on a small woman with little white feathered adornments in her pale blonde hair, running barefoot up the steps. Closer to his father. Closer to the fire raging within the building that must have come from Natsu.

"N-No," he sniffled. Larcade tried to move again, faster this time, and coughed out a mouthful of blood. "Don't hurt him… I-I'm supposed to…"

"Oh my god…" Soft hands brushed across his shoulders and he felt someone drop to their knees beside him. Flashes of gold surrounded them, but Larcade didn't care as the lights dissipated.

"F-Father," he whimpered, shaking the hands away and trying to move again. But his legs trembled. He couldn't lift his head any longer. "Let me h-help… I can s-still…"

"Just stop moving, okay? Loke, you know the plan. Take Capricorn and Taurus with you. Gemini, I need you to turn into Wendy."

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Now!" she shouted. "Loke, we'll deal with it later. Natsu and Gray need you!"

"He's one of them!" Loke shot back.

"And he doesn't deserve to die! Loke, please! I'll be there in a minute."

"Piri-piri!" Twin, high-pitched voices swirled just in front of Larcade's face, and his eyes opened to see two small blue humanoid beings hovering before him. They touched his battered, sweaty cheek, and he frowned at the sight of them merging together, melding and shifting until his own face stared down at him.

"Larcade Dragneel," said the Other Larcade. It sounded just like him. "Son of Zeref Dragneel and Mavis Vermillion. Spriggan 12. Magic dealing with pleasure. Jealous of Natsu, and wants him dead. Wishes his father would see that he's powerful. Thinks-"

"Gemini, that's enough. Please, change into Wendy so you can heal him."

He'd never seen a look of confusion on his face before, but with this spirit mimicking him, Larcade could see it all. Petulance, narrowed eyes and a small pout. And then, in an instant, the spirit poofed into a small girl with deep blue pigtails.

"Lucy, I don't like this," the spirit said, no longer sounding like him.

Larcade groaned as two sets of hands carefully rolled him onto his back. He didn't realize the tears he'd tried to hold back were easily streaming down his face when he looked up at the sky filled with smoke.

"It's okay, Gemini," Lucy said. Her fingers sifted through Larcade's hair, a gentle touch that he shied away from. "If he's Master Mavis' son, then he can't be all bad."

His tired orange eyes turned toward the sound of her voice. "Wh-What would you know about that?" he coughed.

"Nothing, really," she laughed. "Let me help you, Larcade."

She surprised him by bringing his dirty, bloody hand up and clasping hers around it while her spirit sent warm, healing magic into him. Even though he could hear the battle raging in the guild, felt the earth quaking under the magic flying around so close to them, the blonde woman holding his hand didn't seem to be fazed by it. She simply stared down at him with her soulful doe eyes.

"Who did this to you?" she whispered.

"My father." He wasn't sure why her eyes went wide in horror, why she looked from his face to the injury her spirit was healing, then over to the guild. "I… got in his way."

"That's no way to treat your child," she said. "I hope they kill that bastard."

Cold fury leaked from deep within his soul and strengthened his grip on her hands. Her eyes cut back down to him. If he could have, Larcade would have lunged for her, taken her to the ground and subjected her to the worst torture imaginable. Except he still couldn't move. "Don't talk about him that way."

"You love him," she said, her head tilting to the side, "Even though he can never love you back?"

He stayed silent, still trying to find the strength to move away from her when the front of Fairy Tail was blown away by a bright flash of ice and fire and light.

"Princess, run!" Capricorn shouted.

"Lucy, get away from here!" Loke yelled.

Lucy's eyes went wide as a black, ominous cloud surged up into the sky. "What is that?"

"That would be my father," Larcade said. His eyes closed and a slow smile curled his lips. "It seems this fight is finished. No one will survive this."

"Luce, you stay safe!" Natsu roared. "Zeref, don't you bring them into this!"

Lucy gasped and closed Gemini's gate, then wrapped her arms around Larcade and rolled him away from the spot he'd collapsed just before the black cloud could decimate them both. He groaned while they continued rolling, her body over his, pulling him across her again. Over and over until he was pinned to a wall and her smaller body was pressed against him as a shield.

"What are you doing?"

"Protecting you," she panted. He stared as she pulled away from him and stood with her whip uncoiled and snapping across the ground.

"Why?"

She singled out a key and he watched her clothes change to black and white tights and with a short wool dress. Twin ram horns sprouted just above her ears. Her hands lifted and layers upon layers of fluffy, pink wool surrounded them in a dome. Finally, she looked over her shoulder and smiled down at him. "Because that's what Fairy Tail does," Lucy said. "We protect the ones who are precious to us. And we never stop fighting until the end!"

"... Precious?"

* * *

"Lucy?" he whispered, shifting where he laid on her breast to look up at her tired brown eyes.

"Hm?"

"Why am I precious to you?" He could still remember so clearly the day they'd met, when she'd saved his life even though he'd been her enemy. Nearly a year had gone by since then.

She smiled and brought her lips to his, guiding his hand from its place on her hip to the barely showing bulge in her belly. "Because you love me," she said. "You love us."

"Why was I precious to you before?" He pushed beneath her nightgown and gently caressed her thigh, hip, then stomach. "When you didn't know me…"

"You're thinking about the day he died again?" He nodded, letting out a quiet sigh when he was pulled to her chest once more. "I guess I saw a little of myself in your eyes," she said. "Wanting love, acceptance. You never had that chance because of Zeref, but I knew that if you could see the truth about us, you'd realize that it was possible for you too."

"You're precious to me, too," he said. His lips puckered just above her breasts, slowly gliding lower and pushing the soft fabric down with his chin.

"This is why I'm pregnant," she giggled. "You're hopeless."

Larcade smiled, letting his nose brush one way and another across her silken skin. "You make my restless nights bearable," he whispered, sending goosebumps across her flesh. "You see the good in me, even when no one else does. You'll always be precious to me, Lucy." He settled between her legs, sighing as her fingers mapped out every muscle on his back, from his shoulders to his hips. "Would you rather I use my magic instead?"

She whimpered when his lips captured hers and his fingers skittered along her outer thigh. "No," she gasped, breaking away from the kiss before his tongue could slither out to take away her senses. "Not this time."

"Later, then?" he smirked.

Her fingers anchored against his scalp and a breathy laugh spilled past her lips. "Later," she whispered. "You pervert."

"I can accept that."

 _ **.The End.**_


	4. Mad

**A/N: Not my usual stuff. How about some first-person for a change? And would you look at that pairing? Oh god, what have I done? You all have my sincerest apologies for this. I honestly have no idea where this shit came from, or why I just _had_ to write it, but...**

 **I mean, you all wanted bitter and angsty fucking sadness, right? No? Damn...**

* * *

 _ **Mad  
**_ _Natsu x Lucy  
(with a dash of Cobra x Lucy)  
Rated T for language_

* * *

Here's the thing about love: anyone who falls head-first into it is batshit fucking crazy. And they're fucking idiots. They're stuck clawing their way around in a mountain of shit, desperate to just be able to see clearly again. And the worst part about all of it? It's only the ones _watching_ those lovestruck idiots rolling around covered in shit that can see and smell it from a mile away. The ones in love? They think it's all roses and unicorns and breakfast in bed and Saturday morning cuddles. They don't realize just how desperate they are to get away from it, too busy thinking that everything they're doing is because they're so _happy_.

That's what I thought it was. I'd spent so much time loving him that I hadn't been able to smell the shit piling up and sticking to me until it was too late. I'd thought he was a different man, that he'd changed for the better. And maybe it was stupid of me to think that. Maybe I was just a naive idiot, just like the rest of them, but being with Cobra had hurt so much more than I'd thought possible.

I'd wanted to believe that he was normal, that the likenesses in our childhood had given us some sort of connection and it had made us closer than everyone else could ever hope to be. He'd been raised with no one to love him. I'd spent years searching for the love I knew my father was capable of, hoping it would come back. He had nightmares about his past; I had nightmares about things that happened in the last couple years.

Cobra understood pain that etched itself into the soul just as well as I did. Probably better since his magic forced him to hear it.

And maybe that was the problem. I just had too much of it in my soul. It wasn't the happy bubblegum bullshit that he'd thought it would be just by looking at me.

"Luce, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I sighed, wrapping my sleeping bag more tightly around my shoulders. Even with the fire doused for the night, it was still barely glowing. Just enough that I could tell he was looking at me.

"C'mon," Natsu whispered, "We're friends. You can tell me when you're upset, y'know."

Oh, I knew that I could talk to him. But the thing was, I'd done enough of that for the past six months. I'd talked and cried, and cried and talked. Mira and Erza and Levy all knew the worst of it. I'd had so many long nights with them it wasn't even funny, just venting and ranting and questioning what the hell was wrong with me that Cobra would up and leave.

But I'd started to notice something, the longer my talking went on. They didn't care as much as they'd pretended to. Maybe it was because I'd spent the better part of a year crying over the Poison Slayer to them, and maybe they'd just gotten tired of listening to the same things about him.

No one wanted to hear that I'd fallen in love with the wrong man. They didn't care that I was still heartbroken months later. Erza had made a point of telling me that she never knew just what I'd seen in Cobra to begin with, aside from his looks. I hadn't wanted to tell her before, when we were still together, that I saw his heart. That he loved just as deeply, cared just as much. He was an asshole, but that was his defense mechanism, and I really didn't blame him for it after the life he'd had.

Even after this long, I was still making excuses for him.

"It's not important," I said.

Natsu shifted closer, and it wasn't until his arm wrapped around my shoulders that I realized just how long it had been since he'd tried to hug me. I'd been the one to put that distance between us before, when Cobra and I had been together, because I wanted to respect my relationship with him and not have him smelling Natsu all over me when he came to visit. He'd definitely noticed the general lack of Fire Slayer in my apartment, and while I'd thought it would make him happy - because he and Natsu really didn't get along all that often - it had the opposite effect.

Cobra had called me immature. He'd told me, _"I'm not your fucking keeper, and I don't fucking own you, so don't go ditching your friends for me. I wouldn't ditch my friends for you, even if you asked."_ It had hurt at the time, so damn much that I'd been left in tears after he walked into the bathroom for a shower. And by the time he came out wearing only a towel, I hadn't stopped crying. It was silent, but I know he heard me doing it even before leaving the steam-filled bathroom.

I'd been so stupid, thinking that his arms wrapping around me meant he wasn't mad anymore. I'd thought he understood that I just wanted to make things easier, that I was trying to be considerate to what _he_ wanted.

"Luce, it's important," Natsu said. He pulled me closer, until I was curled up against his side and his nose rested in my hair. "You're hurt."

"I'm not."

"You might not be bleeding," he said, "But that doesn't mean you aren't in pain. Why won't you talk to me anymore?"

How was I supposed to tell Natsu the truth? How could I just turn and look at him and say that I was a total fucking moron and he'd been right the year before? Natsu was the first one to figure out Cobra and I were seeing each other in secret, and he'd been happy for me. For both of us.

I still remember the way he'd smiled that same Natsu-smile and hugged me like hell. How he'd said, _"You just remember, if he ever breaks your heart, I'll always be there for you."_ I'd thought he was just being silly, that it wasn't like Cobra really would break my heart. But he'd been right. That bastard _had_ and Natsu was still here. Still by my side. Sure, we'd had a rough patch here and there, but I'd eventually forgiven him for leaving after the war with Tartaros. Only after I'd gotten a real apology from him. It took some time, but Natsu and I had gotten our old friendship back. And he was more mature - thank fucking god for small miracles - than he'd been before.

"I talk to you all the time," I said. We spent all of our time together. He was the best friend I'd ever had. God, and I'd been willing to throw _this_ away for Cobra. I'd tried so hard to push Natsu out of my life because I'd, what? I'd wanted some fucking _man_ to be happier? What about my happiness?

"Not about the important stuff," he replied. "Not about why Cobra doesn't come around the guild now."

Just hearing his name made me want to cry. I could think about him, say his name in my head all day and night, but as soon as someone else mentioned him, my eyes burned and my lips trembled.

"Luce, I'm really worried about you," he said. "You don't seem like yourself anymore."

Taking this time away with Natsu was a mistake. We weren't even on a job. There was no mission that I could distract myself with. He'd invited me to some lake across the damn country all so he could go fishing. Except Happy wasn't with us, like he normally would have been. It was just the two of us, alone in the woods, still a few days from our destination. But maybe that's what he'd wanted. Maybe Natsu had grown up more than I gave him credit for, and he'd set this up so he could try and talk to me with no interruptions.

"What's to worry about?" I asked. "I'm still me. Just the same ol' Lucy."

"You're not, though." Finally, I looked up at him. I couldn't really see him that well, just a bare silhouette of my best friend lying next to me from the moonlight slipping through the trees above us. "You don't smile as much now, and your apartment always smells like you've been crying."

I hated his stupid Slayer sense of smell. Cobra had been the same way, always picking up on scents and letting me know just what he'd figured out - like when he'd said we couldn't have sex even though we used condoms, because I was ovulating and he didn't want to chance getting me pregnant. Granted, I'd appreciated the thought - I didn't want to have kids just yet either - but knowing that he could smell something so personal was weird.

"If this is about Cobra, then tell me what he did to upset you and I'll go kick his ass," Natsu said. His smile was gone. The warmth of his body intensified just enough for me to feel it through my sleeping bag.

"He didn't do anything."

That was a lie, sort of. He'd left me, so technically he'd done _something_ to upset me. Except, the way he explained it, our relationship ending was my fault.

" _Look, it's not my fucking job to fix you, Lucy. And I'm not looking to tie myself down with someone who can't learn to stand on her own two goddamn feet once in awhile. You're always thinking about ME, and never about yourself. And when you do think about yourself, you push that shit to the side. It's not fucking healthy, and I don't want any part of it... Don't cry, Lucy. Look, I still love you. I know it's probably not exactly what you wanna hear, but I do love you. That's why I have to do this, though. If we stay together, all that's gonna happen is you slowly changing to fit what I want. I don't want you to lose yourself in me. I'm fucked up enough as it is, and the last thing I can handle is having you there, dragging you down with me… No, I've been thinking about this for a bit… Please, don't cry. I know it hurts now, but one day it'll stop hurting and you'll forget all about some piece of shit like me, okay? So, no matter what anyone tells you, just let it hurt… I'm serious, it'll be good for your soul. Lucy, just let it hurt for as long as you need… I swear, I never meant to hurt you like this."_

It was the most he'd ever said at one time while not yelling at someone. He'd been so damn nice to me. He said he was doing it for my own good. At least he hadn't given me any ultimatums. There was no _It's not you, it's me_ or _this just isn't working anymore_ or anything like that. Even while ripping my heart out, Cobra had been straightforward. At least he'd had the decency to make it a clean break.

Even though I'd desperately tried to throw myself at him, to kiss him and beg him to take me back, he'd held firm. Cobra had pushed me away at arm's length and said, _"I know you have more self-respect than to act like all you're good for is your cunt. I don't do break-up sex, either. We're done."_ And then he'd walked out.

"Then what is it?" Natsu asked. "I miss who you were before…"

"Who I was?" I looked down when he nodded and carefully reached into my sleeping bag to grasp my hands. Even then, I felt frozen. Bitter. No matter how warm he was, it just seemed like nothing could bring back the happiness I'd had with Cobra.

"My happy, smiling partner. The one who used to kick me out of her bed at night only to let me crawl under the covers anyway." I watched as our fingers coiled around one another. "I want the Lucy who complained about me breaking in, but still smiled and let me have breakfast with her. You used to keep fish for Happy in the freezer, and hot sauce for me in the pantry. You used to yell at us for being reckless and silly and not getting the reward on our jobs."

"So, you want your doormat back," I scowled.

"No," he said. His grip tightened slightly around my fingers, drawing my attention up to his face once again. "I never did those things because I thought I could walk all over you."

"I told you to stop all the time."

"I could tell you didn't want me to," Natsu said. I knew he could see my lips pursing with anger. "I slept in your bed because I didn't want to be alone at night, Luce. I wanted to know that you were safe, and the only way for me to know for sure was to sleep by you. You know Lisanna was my friend before, and when I lost her… It was just like losing Igneel all over again. I know I never said it, but for the longest time I was scared I'd lose you too."

"But…"

"The times I didn't sleep in your bed, was because I _do_ know what boundaries are," he continued. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but did you never notice that I stayed away from your apartment when you were on your period? Mira taught me that it's pretty personal, and I didn't want you to think that I didn't respect your privacy."

"But you…"

"I love having breakfast with you, Luce," he whispered. "You know I can't cook all that good. We both know I'm kind of a slob-"

"That's an understatement."

He chuckled and our foreheads rested together. "But just having a meal with you makes me happy. A nice home-cooked meal. Food at the guild is good, but when you cook for me… I can taste the difference. You care about what you feed me. It tastes better than anything Mira's ever cooked."

My cheeks were on fire and though I fought to look away, I just couldn't.

"You kept me in line, Luce," he said. "I know I should probably listen more, and I should try to do a better job of being part of the team instead of just running in and fighting everyone myself. But, y'know, every time you yelled, it sunk in a little more. I'm not the smartest guy out there… Sometimes it takes a bit for me to learn my lesson… But you tried to help me see what I was doing wrong before, and now you just… You don't do any of those things."

"... Natsu…"

"I just wanna know why," he said. "Why aren't you being yourself anymore? I mean, if you're depressed or something, you can tell me. I don't think I can fix it, but maybe you can help me understand it better?"

"I'm not depressed." At least, I didn't _think_ I was depressed. Did my heart being shattered into millions of pieces count as being depressed?

"Or if I did something wrong-"

"You didn't do anything wrong." No, Natsu really was in the clear this time around.

"Then what is it? What happened that made you-"

"Cobra broke up with me."

Natsu went silent and so painfully still that I didn't know what to do about it. He stopped breathing entirely for a solid minute before I heard him speak. And if I hadn't been so close, I doubt I'd have heard a thing. "... What?"

"H-He broke up with me," I said, clearing my throat to try and keep it from cracking. "Six months ago." It hurt, seeing the pain shining so clearly in his eyes as he gazed down at me. This was why I hadn't told Natsu about it. I knew it would hurt him, just knowing that I wasn't happy anymore, that I was actually pretty much miserable every day that I woke up and remembered that Cobra was no longer a part of my life.

"He… But, Cobra loves you," he said. "I don't understand…"

I shook my head and held on tighter when I felt his fingers slipping away. "I-I don't either," I sniffled. "N-Natsu, I'm sorry."

"What? Why?"

"I-I was stupid. I'm s-sorry I… I wasn't…" His hands finally left mine as the first of my tears broke past my lashes. I didn't want him to let go, though. Thankfully, he did something that was just so fucking _Natsu_ that it only made me cry harder. He left his bedroll and unzipped my sleeping bag, then crawled in and zipped it right back up.

Our bodies were pressed together, my legs tangled with his, but it was how it felt to have his arms wrapping around me and pulling me even closer that had a broken sob filling the air between us.

"Luce," he whispered, his lips brushing across my forehead, "I wish you'd told me."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize," he chuckled. "Just come here." He held me even tighter, and before I could think it through, my arms wrapped around him as well. "I told you before. I'll always be here for you. So you just let it all out and it'll be okay. I promise."

I nodded against him, letting myself cry until the tears just wouldn't come anymore. I hadn't realized just how much I'd held back while talking with the girls until I'd tried explaining things to Natsu and all that came out was unintelligible sobs. He didn't seem to mind, though. I wanted him to know what had happened, what Cobra had said at the end. I wanted someone to understand that this really was my fault. And maybe Natsu would have tried to convince me that it was just as much Cobra's fault as it was mine, but that didn't matter. It's not like he could really understand what I was saying to begin with.

All that mattered was that I was finally just letting it out, letting my best friend know what had been gnawing at me for months. And eventually, I fell asleep with his warmth surrounding me and his fingers sifting through my hair, just like Cobra used to do when we slept.

* * *

Natsu frowned at the scent drifting through the air an hour after Lucy fell asleep, and his head turned just enough to see the shadowy figure walking closer to their camp. When he saw that single indigo eye staring down at her, it took everything in him not to clamber out of the sleeping bag and attack the bastard.

"Salamander."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Natsu hissed.

"Keeping an eye on her," Cobra said.

"Why? Luce told me-"

"I know what she told you. And it's the truth. I can't be with her, Natsu. I love her too much to hurt her anymore."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Lucy shifted against him only slightly, her slow exhale brushing across his bare chest. "You swore to me, Cobra. You _swore_ you wouldn't break her heart. When you came and told me that you wanted to start seeing Luce, you told me you'd protect her." He'd been more than surprised that the Poison Slayer had thought to mention it to him in the first place before pursuing Lucy, but Natsu had appreciated the thought behind it - that Cobra knew just how important she was, and he wanted Natsu to know that he was trying to be a good guy about it all.

"I was wrong," Cobra replied. His gaze never left the blonde, never left the tear tracks on her red, blotchy cheeks. "I was too fucking stupid to see that all I could do was hurt her."

"And why's that?"

"Because she's too fucked up from before. She needs someone to validate her, and that's… no matter how much I fucking love her, I can't do that."

"Validate her?" Natsu frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Lucy's always going to need to know that she's loved. That whoever's with her is in it for the long haul. She _needs_ romance, Natsu. And I fucking tried, but all she ever did was… She only tried to make me happy."

"You're not making any damn sense," Natsu sneered. "She's supposed to make you happy!"

"Not to her own fucking detriment," Cobra shot back. "She's not supposed to drop everyone in her life to make things easier for me. Not her friends, not _you_ …" He shook his head and his fists clenched at his sides before he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small key. He made his way over to Natsu's bag and tucked it inside, then looked back at Lucy.

"What was that?"

"I still had her house key," he whispered. "I… Natsu, promise me you'll always be there for her, okay?"

"Cobra, you're being a moron."

"I'm not. I love her, but we just weren't good for each other. I can't fix her."

"There's nothing _wrong_ with her," Natsu scowled.

"Look, I'm not gonna argue about this shit with you, okay? Just… No matter how much she hates it now, I just want her to see that I did this for her. She can't be happy with me. We'll never have a life like the one she dreamt about every night. I _want_ her to have that… A house, a family… I want her to wake up every single day and feel loved, to _know_ that the man she's with really loves her… That she's… she's the most important person in the world to him."

"But she's all those things to you."

"Shut up," Cobra huffed, turning and blinking back the tears he knew Natsu could smell. "You love her just as much. Don't think I haven't heard it. You've loved Lucy a whole lot longer than I have, and… Just… Swear to me you'll be a better man than I was, okay? Don't break her heart like I did."

"Luce doesn't see me that way."

"She might… After she's over me, maybe she'll realize you were right fucking there all along."

"I don't care if she doesn't," Natsu whispered. His eye narrowed slightly when a sad, humorless laugh escaped the Poison Slayer.

"That puts you fucking leagues ahead of me, then," Cobra said. "Take care of her, Natsu. I'll stop following her, now… Now that I know you're watching out for her." He turned and walked away from the small camp, just as silently as he'd arrived, leaving the love of his life wrapped in her best friend's arms, just like he should have from the very beginning.

Even if Lucy hated him for the rest of her life, even if she never forgave him for leaving, at least Cobra knew that she was safe. With Natsu around, she would always be safe. And he knew, even though it hurt, that one day Lucy _would_ end up with the Fire Dragon Slayer. She'd have the love she deserved in arms around her every single morning, in soft kisses to her temple and just behind her ears - just the way she liked - and that one day she'd be a beautiful mother to a whole battalion of rowdy little fucking Dragneel hellions.

The thought had him smiling just a little, even as he walked away from her for the last time and forced his feet to keep moving toward Crime Sorciere's camp only a mile away. He would see her again someday, and all Cobra could hope was that she'd found a way to move on, to find her own happiness.

 _ **.The End.**_


	5. Tremble

**A/N: I know I should be working on my ongoing stories, but these are a lot easier to get written since they're just short little things. Just a straight-up lemon this time around. I've been feeling rather uninspired on the smut-front, so this is my attempt at making sure I haven't completely lost my smut-skills.**

* * *

 _ **Tremble  
**_ _Gildarts x Lucy  
Rated M_

* * *

She hadn't realized that a man his age could have so much stamina, or that feeling his hips digging into her inner thighs like they were would make her body quiver with desire. What had started as a couple drinks soon ended up with Lucy toppling into bed with the guild's strongest mage easily following her, their lips still connected and his fingers already working loose the closures on his pants.

And she definitely wasn't complaining, even though it was nearing five in the morning. Because while Gildarts had a reputation that would make a prostitute flush, Lucy found that it was well-earned. His sweat-slicked chest brushed against her breasts. Her arms wound around his back and her fingers anchored themselves in his shoulders while Gildarts lifted her hips from the bed. Each swift stroke filled her nearly to the point of pain, but she was long past caring about any of that. Not when he groaned against her and his lips lowered to her chest, peppered her flushed skin with wanting open-mouthed kisses.

She was putty in his hands, and the blonde really had no issues with it. It seemed he didn't either, if his quickening pace was anything to go by.

"I love it when you scream my name," he rasped just before sucking one rosy nipple into his mouth. She cried out, just like he wanted, her nerves tingling and her legs locking around his pistoning hips while he pushed her higher on the bed with every rough plunge.

She'd never had a man lift her into his lap so easily before him. Had never felt so much power skittering under the bunching, corded muscles her fingers mapped out before sinking into his hair, pulling his lips to her breasts so he could kiss and bite and groan against her heaving chest.

Lucy was, however, blissfully unaware of the way her body moved on instinct, how her hips rolled into his thrusts and just how much he loved the way she nipped at his lips and moaned into every kiss. She'd found out that he'd been so scared of approaching her at first, for fear of rejection, and of what Cana might do if she found out about his carnal desire for the Celestial mage. But that wasn't important any longer. She fluttered around him, her breaths grew more ragged. He couldn't stop himself from admiring how her movements slowed, no matter how hard she tried to keep going, as the pleasure streaking through her became too much for her to bear and still be able to function.

That was fine. He was able to compensate, to keep her at the perfect angle so every thrust had him brushing over that sweet spot within her. "That's it," he groaned. "Cum for me, again. It feels so good, Lucy!"

"G-Gildarts, please… I…"

Oh, he knew she was tired. They'd been at this for hours. When he finished, he didn't let her come down for long, instead replacing his spent cock with his fingers or tongue and making sure she didn't melt into the sheets. He'd searched for years for someone just like her. Someone who could take everything he had to offer and still beg for more. A woman that knew just what she wanted and took it, much like Lucy had when she'd bought him a drink and eventually whispered into his ear that she was _so fucking horny_ and that she _needed him inside of her_.

"Another," he growled against her heaving chest. "I'm greedy, baby. I want it all." His hand carded through her hair, metal fingers pushing between the sweat-soaked strands, and he drew her lips down to meet his once again. Just the gentle brush of cool metal at the nape of her neck had Lucy trembling, her nerves lighting up in quick succession. But, in only a few short hours, he'd grown addicted to her. Her every whimper and mewl, her soft skin moving so perfectly against him.

"Gil, I-I can't…"

"Last one," he rasped against her lips. "With me, baby. Come on, I want it!"

Lucy gasped as Gildarts tossed her down to the bed again and pushed her legs apart so she was spread out beneath him. Without thinking, she reached down and grabbed her legs, holding them further open for him. She was rewarded with a low curse from the Crash mage and the intense ecstasy of his hips slamming into her with more force than before. "Gildarts," she moaned, "H-Harder! Do it harder!"

His hands clamped around her hips so tightly she could feel his metal fingers bruising her. And still, she didn't care. She couldn't. Because all Lucy could feel was the pressure building inside of her, the air that felt like it was caught in her lungs even though her moans were probably keeping the neighbors awake. She'd never once felt how rigid a man's arousal was just before he came, but maybe it was because her body was hypersensitive by that point. She felt it. That hot, thick length brushed against every overly aware part of her core, faster, harder.

The bed creaked and groaned in time with the mages writhing on the drenched sheets. His gaze was heavy as he stared at where their bodies were joined. She could feel his brilliant amber eyes drifting higher, over her stomach, the swell of her breasts, her flushed cheeks, until finally Lucy lost herself in them.

"That's it," Gildarts whispered. "Let go, baby."

"Gil… G-Gil… Oh fuck, that's… Oh _god_!"

He smirked while bringing his thumb to her clit, watching as she tried to pull away from the intense, tight circles he drew over it. "Uh-uh, I'm gonna fill you up, Lucy." He held her in place, forcing himself to move faster, to push deeper than before. Her sex rippled around him, and then she screamed much louder than before. She clamped down around him, her muscles tightening and her arousal coating his cock as Gildarts' pleasure finally mounted and he lost the will to hold back his release.

He found himself smiling as another brush of his thumb over her clit had her body tightening once more and a stream of warm liquid spilling from her quivering body. That was definitely a first for the blonde. He knew for a fact that Lucy wasn't a squirter, and yet… He felt the proof of it on his stomach, saw it on her thighs and splashed onto her stomach and breasts where she was bent in half.

He carefully withdrew once she's milked him dry, humming in contentment while her legs fell limp to the bed. Just the softest brush of his lips against her throat had a soft whimper crackling in her chest. He carefully laid down beside her, pulling the blonde with him and curling her into his chest. And once she was in his arms, Gildarts pressed a tender kiss to her golden hair.

"Pretty sure it worked," Lucy whispered after several minutes. She smiled and brushed her nose through the hair on his chest.

"You think so?"

She nodded, slowly opening her eyes to look up at him. "If I'm not pregnant after this, then I don't know what else to do," she giggled. A soft hum left her when they kissed and his hands worked slow, soothing circles down the length of her spine.

"Fingers crossed, then," he chuckled, gazing down at his wife of two years. He was more than happy that she'd reminded him that morning that she was ovulating. They'd been trying for months now with no luck. But Lucy wanted a family, and he was a bit prone to spoiling her, so they were going to try until they succeeded. "Cana says she wants a little brother."

Lucy laughed and closed her eyes while snuggling closer to Gildarts. Just when she thought they could get some much needed rest, she felt his fingers slipping between her legs and slowly pushing into her. "Gil, what are you doing?"

"Just making sure you're not dripping everywhere," he chuckled, gently wriggling his fingers within her. "It's gotta be in you to knock you up."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed.

"I could hold you up by your ankles and give you a good shake," he smirked. "Maybe blow on your-"

"Oh my god, shut up," she said, still smiling up at him. Sure, it had been her idea to buy him a drink the night before and pretend they were a couple horny teenagers, just fucking like their lives depended on it. Still though, Lucy was exhausted. She just wanted to cuddle with him and sleep the day away.

"Shutting up," Gildarts whispered. Once they were comfortable again and his fingers slipped out of her slick sex, he added, "I love you, baby."

"Mm, love you too. Sleepy time though…"

"I'm gonna need it, aren't I…"

A serene smile curved Lucy's lips and her grip around his waist tightened marginally. "I'll let you hold me up by my ankles later, handsome. Handstand sex…"

He was never happier that Lucy fully believed gravity could help her get pregnant. Namely, that being upside down would do the trick. He could already picture the odd positions she would let him put her in - like having her hands on the floor and her knees up on the bed. "God I love you…"

 _ **.The End.**_


	6. Summer

**A/N: So, this one is for** _ **raijindork**_ **. Because you killed my soul, I must kill yours in return. I hope. Such an odd thing to hope for, but it's good to have goals.**

 **There are a few notes at the end for those of you who find something a tad offensive or disconcerting in this chapter. I would put them at the beginning, but then it would ruin the story for those of you who want to be surprised by what will happen next.**

 **So, have a sad modern AU...**

* * *

 _ **Summer  
**_ _Bickslow x Cobra  
Rated T_

* * *

"I swear, it'll be like I never left," he whispered into his husband's maroon hair. Cobra didn't mind that they were both sweating, waiting for the repairman to come out and fix their AC unit (again) while temperatures skyrocketed across the city. It was almost like his body hadn't gotten the memo though, because he just felt cold inside knowing where Bickslow was going and what he would be doing over there.

Knowing that there was a good chance he just wouldn't come back made Cobra want to vomit and kick Bickslow's ass and kiss him and beg him to go AWOL all at the same time.

At one point, he would have hated someone for making him feel like this. He would have just thrown his relationship out the window and turned tail and stayed far the hell away from any sort of emotional attachment that would only lead to him getting hurt again. Except this was Bickslow, and Cobra had never been able to keep his distance from the blue-haired moron.

"Just fifteen months, okay?" Bickslow whispered. "And once it's done, I'll have a bunch of leave saved up. We can go wherever you want."

"I hate it."

"We've been through it before though, and we survived."

The last two deployments were utter hell, for both of them. Cobra hadn't known what to do with himself, had always found himself waiting by his phone on the off-chance that Bickslow actually had time or the ability to call him. And Bickslow had spent every single day he was overseas in Alvarez patting the pocket over his heart where he kept their wedding picture, reminding himself that no matter what happened, he would be home and with Cobra again _soon_.

Cobra wanted to argue that this could be the last deployment for him, that he could end his contract with the military and just spend the last few months at a desk job, then get the hell out and be _safe_. He wanted to say that Bickslow might not make it back home, that it could be the last time they ever saw each other, because his husband had some ridiculous sense of patriotism.

Instead, he rolled onto his side and shifted higher on the bed so they shared the pillow, then brushed his fingers over Bickslow's hair. "Have I mentioned lately that I miss your mohawk?"

"No," Bickslow chuckled. "But I couldn't keep it, baby."

He just didn't look right with a "high and tight," but Cobra much preferred that to the completely shaved bullshit he'd had right out of basic training all those years ago. "Can I know where you'll be?" he whispered. No matter how hard he wanted to change the subject, he couldn't. Not for long.

Bickslow gave him a sad smile and shook his head. "Op-sec," he whispered. "I can't say until I'm home."

Cobra wanted to tell him that his _operation security_ could lick his fucking asshole, because he had a right to know where his damn husband would be. That way, when he watched the news every day and saw some base from Ishgar had been bombed, he would know whether or not to worry that Bickslow had been there.

"Bix…"

"Hm?"

Cobra bit his lip, looking into those familiar mesmerizing crimson eyes, then let out a quiet sigh and slid back down the bed to rest his head on Bickslow's chest. "Just come home, okay?" he whispered.

"You know I will."

"Not in a body bag."

"I'll try my best."

"I don't care if all of your limbs are blown the fuck off," Cobra said, taking a shaky breath and blinking away his tears. "No matter how much of you is missing, just come home to me."

"You'll wheel me around, won't you?" Bickslow chuckled, though it was tense.

"Always. We'll pimp out your wheelchair too."

* * *

He was at work when they came with their pressed dress blues and rows of barred pins that showed how important they were. Right in the middle of his lecture on free radicals with his moderately intelligent third and fourth year students, a year after Bickslow left, they quietly opened the door and stood just inside, and waited.

Cobra stopped in the middle of everything - speaking, thinking, breathing, maybe even existing in general - and his single eye honed in on the two officials that had come to tell him the news he didn't want to hear. Didn't they only go to people's homes to do this sort of thing? Wasn't he supposed to answer the door and find them there with those somber expressions, hear the news, and then wait for whatever else he had to do?

Finally, they came forward, apparently realizing that they didn't need to wait until his class was finished. Except Cobra couldn't breathe. He couldn't hear the hushed murmurs from his class who had never seen any expression from him aside from cold, authoritative disdain, who were now seeing the tears welling in his eye and how he had to steady himself on the podium.

"Dr. Vivas," one officer said. By the quick glance Cobra sent his way, he was a captain. "Could we speak to you outside for a moment?"

He shook his head, licked his lips to try and wet them again. "Just… Just say what y-you have to," he whispered. God, he remembered sitting in that briefing years ago, one of the few times he'd gone down to the base with Bickslow, like it was yesterday. And somewhere in his head, he knew that them showing up at the university meant they'd tried to get in contact with him at home first and he wasn't there. Bickslow had put it on some form somewhere that he worked at the university, and that if he wasn't at home, he was there. Well, Cobra could only assume that's what he'd done.

"Would you like to dismiss the class?" the other, a chaplain, asked.

He shook his head again. And when he looked back to the captain, the man who would have to tell him, he found a blank, professional mask. When Cobra looked back on it, he would come to realize he appreciated that small gesture.

"The Secretary of the Army regrets to inform you that your husband, Colonel Bickslow Vivas, was killed in action this morning while on a mission. Reports indicate that it was a mortar attack, but most of the details are unclear right now." Just that morning. They moved fast, he supposed. He didn't hear how his students gasped at the news carrying through the mostly silent room. He didn't see their wide, teary eyes as they watched on in horror. "There is an ongoing investigation. Once the investigation is complete, you will have full access to the report. A casualty affairs officer will be in contact with you soon to help you through this process."

Cobra didn't know why it happened, he didn't know why hearing the words made it so much more real for him, but one moment he was looking them right in the eye and ignoring how his tears blurred his vision, and the next he was sitting on the floor and gripping his hair and trying to just _stop_ his bone-shaking sobs from echoing in the lecture hall. The captain stepped back to give him some space - part of his job, Cobra knew - while the chaplain knelt beside him. He shook off the gentle hand that tried to rest on his shoulder.

"Why?" he croaked. "Wh-Why did he…"

"I'm sorry to say, I don't know," the captain said, and he could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Dr. Vivas, what can we do to help you right now?" the chaplain whispered. "Is there someone we can call?"

Cobra shook his head, unable to say anything. Maybe it was a good thing that one of his students spoke up then, because he sure as hell couldn't even begin thinking about what he might need or who could fucking help him deal with this.

"His TA should be on campus somewhere," the student said. "Wendy Marvell. She'll know who to call."

"Is it alright if we contact Ms. Marvell for you?" the chaplain whispered. Cobra just nodded, completely forgetting to dismiss his class, even to just wave his hand. And, of course, none of the students wanted to interrupt him and ask if they could leave since it was obvious the lecture was done. Or even if they should leave.

They were all stuck in that weird sort of limbo. Uncomfortable and unsure of what to do until the hour passed and the class was officially done. Finally the students silently packed their things and exited the room in a single file line, leaving Cobra with the two military officials.

* * *

Cobra didn't know what to do with himself while he stood in the crowd at the hangar on Bickslow's military base. They were all relatively quiet, but he knew that this plane that had just landed was the one holding his husband's casket. It wasn't holding Bickslow though. All they'd been able to find was his boot that had one of his dog tags attached to it, and his ACU top with Vivas velcroed on the right side of his chest and their wedding picture in the left breast pocket. All that was in the casket were those two things, most likely covered in sand and dried blood and singed from what he'd found out later was shrapnel from a mortar attack blowing through some wall that had taken almost every member of Bickslow's unit down in one blow.

He was alone here though. Midnight and Laxus had offered to come with him, but he hadn't wanted them there. He hadn't wanted them to see him like this at the time, but when he saw the first casket being carried off the plane with Ishgar's flag over it, Cobra wished he hadn't been so stubborn.

They were being unloaded in alphabetical order to make it easier for families to come and claim the bodies. Mostly so they could fill out paperwork that acknowledged their loved one had been brought home so they could be transported to the morgue. Bickslow would be on the plane for a while longer. No, his jacket and boot would be, Cobra reminded himself.

Because his husband wasn't on that plane. His body hadn't been recovered, so he was still in some province in Alvarez. Dead.

The counselor told Cobra that the sooner he accepted that Bickslow was dead, the easier it would be. And part of accepting it was to remind himself that his husband was dead. To use the word _dead_. To not avoid it, to face it head-on. Apparently, the guy had realized that Cobra wasn't like most other people who came to see him, and that it wasn't the dying part that bothered him. It was the Bickslow being _gone_ part that tore him apart and made him unable to sleep without waking up and thinking his husband would be in the kitchen trying to cook him breakfast and failing miserably, but claiming it was still better than MRE eggs.

A blonde woman beside him sniffled quietly, then let out a soft sigh, drawing Cobra's attention. She was alone as well. Except when he looked at her and saw how her belly was rounded, and that the rest of her was still thin, he realized she wasn't really alone. She had a little someone with her, and god help him… he felt worse for her than himself.

She turned toward him when she realized he was staring at her stomach, her hand lifting and rubbing a slow circle over it. "Hi," she whispered.

Cobra looked at the ground and hummed a response.

"You're alone too?" He nodded, looking back toward the plane and the caskets being unloaded. "Your wife?"

"Husband," he said. "Colonel Vivas. You?"

"Husband," she said softly, turning back as well. "Sergeant Redfox." They stood in silence for several minutes, then she said, "He wanted to name our daughter Tali."

"... It's an interesting choice." They didn't speak after that, and when the procession was finished, they turned and started milling through the crowd toward their respective spouses' remains.

* * *

Cobra felty every shot from the twenty-one gun salute. The sounds ricocheted through the cemetery and pierced his soul as he stood before Bickslow's grave. He watched in silence as soldiers wearing white gloves removed the flag from his husband's casket and folded it in half, in half again, then one corner over to make a triangle, down and across, over and over again.

The weight of that flag threatened to knock him over once it was in his hands. He couldn't handle it though. No matter how much Cobra had insisted to everyone that he was fine, that losing Bickslow hurt but that he would be alright, he knew it was all lies. He wasn't okay. He hardly slept anymore. Midnight and Laxus made sure to check on him at least once a week, and the casualty counselor was nice to chat with on occasion, but it was all finally setting in for him.

Bickslow was really gone. It wasn't just some fucked up dream anymore. It wasn't something he and Bickslow talked about between deployments. This was his reality. His husband, the only bastard in the world who Cobra had ever loved, was gone. All because of some war that didn't really affect _them_ , but that their country - or allied countries, was more accurate - had been fighting for decades. All because Bickslow had been so adamant about staying in for twenty years and really making something of himself, because he'd done it the smart way and went into the military after he'd finished college, but still went through everything from the bottom of the barrel up, so he could prove to himself and to everyone else that he was the right man for his job.

Cobra wanted to be mad at his husband. He really fucking did. Except, then he would think about those late nights together, those early mornings before the sun had come up where Bickslow would kiss him and whisper that he loved him before going to work and doing drills and whatever the hell else he did at work before it was even four in the morning.

And it was while he looked at the flag in his hands that Cobra remembered just what it was that made him fall in love with Bickslow to begin with. It wasn't his wild mohawk or his sense of humor when they'd met in college. It wasn't his dedication to his morals or his job. It wasn't the way Bickslow would groan in his ear and grab his hips from behind, or how content Cobra felt when they finally fell to the bed together and kissed and cuddled like there was no tomorrow.

It was his smile. That bright, cancerous smile that infected everyone who saw it. The smile he'd gotten for the first time when he'd threatened two thugs at the university with a knife and chemical burns for teasing Bickslow about being gay.

Cobra missed that smile. He wished it was there, looking back at him in the large picture that was beside Bickslow's grave, instead of his military picture in his dress blues and beret, straight-faced and so serious that it was hard to recognize him at all.

He just wished the love of his life would come home. Except, Cobra knew that would never happen.

* * *

It wasn't often that Cobra found himself near Forest Hall, the building that housed the English and Humanities and World Languages departments, but he needed to get to the library for a change to scan pages from an actual book for once for his small summer class on Inorganic Chemistry. And when he saw the large group of people crowded in the grass, he knew why.

Garish red and orange signs with bold black and white text bobbed above the crowd. Between bodies, he caught small glimpses of leatherbound bibles. He had no issues with religion in general. Except these particular people apparently believed that Hell was only twenty miles below campus and heaven resided just above the clouds. Their sign saying, _Hell. Twenty Miles Down._ was enough for him to know they were morons and making other people of their faith look bad.

The fact that there was a woman yelling at a student, saying she didn't know what she was talking about because she was just _some lesbian_ , really hammered that in.

"God wants to save you all. The sinners will go to hell, unless you repent and find the light."

Cobra's steps slowed as he read another sign.

 _ **REPENT SINNERS**  
Homos & Lesbos  
Cheaters & Liars  
Potheads & Oxyheads  
Sex before Marriage  
Beer Fanatics  
Trans-anything  
Scientist Nonbelievers  
Evolution-ists  
Women who get Abortions_

He'd forgotten about these people. They were smart enough to stay away from the science side of campus - most likely because those students just tended to shout equations at them. They had a pretty inclusive list though, and while he would have just rolled his eye and taken a picture and sent it to Bickslow for them to laugh over the ridiculousness of some people, Cobra was all too aware of how he couldn't do that anymore.

"Soldiers are sinners too, and good riddance to the ones who got killed already."

That had him stopping entirely. He knew, as a member of the faculty, he wasn't supposed to intervene when these people showed up unless they were harassing people. Some bullshit about free speech. Except, that one comment had a good number of students shouting about how these guys needed to shut the fuck up. And if anything, Cobra could feel the tension of an impending riot if this didn't stop.

No matter how much he wanted to rip into the guy who'd so stupidly lumped Bickslow into the sinning group, he had to keep his damn job. He had to remain calm about this. Sexuality aside, because he knew that some people just refused to understand the concept of two people of the same sex being together not actually affecting _their_ lives, his husband died protecting these assholes' right to spew bullshit.

So, he did what was necessary. And _only_ what was necessary, he kept telling himself while pushing through the students to stand at the front of the crowd. The fact that he saw several students with their phones out, recording the whole thing, wasn't that surprising.

What was surprising though, was how many of them went utterly quiet when he made an appearance and walked into the open area where the religious group was standing. Maybe it was his lab coat that he always wore on campus that gave him an air of _Trust me, I'm a scientist_. Or maybe it was the fact that he was sure the entire school knew that his husband had been killed overseas several years ago, because there was some site that held a virtual vigil in support of Bickslow when the news got around about his breakdown in class. He hadn't checked in some time, but he figured it was still up and active.

Regardless of the reason, Cobra was glad that he wouldn't have to shout. Shouting didn't really get people anywhere.

"Someone stop recording this and call the campus police," Cobra said, staring into the man's eyes while he lowered his megaphone and paused in his sermon.

"You can't stop us from spreading the word of God."

"Free speech," a young man piped up while holding his sign. "We can do this all we want."

"True, but I'm stopping you morons from being murdered," Cobra said. "And while I'm sure you thoroughly enjoy spreading hypocritical hatred and hiding behind that couple thousand year old work of fiction as a point of contention for your beliefs, there's no empirical evidence to support your claims. At all."

"Dayum! Doctor Cobra's gonna rip these assholes in half!" a student called out, sending a round of laughs rippling through the crowd.

"The bible says-"

"Love your neighbor," Cobra nodded. "Pretty sure your fancy man in the sky wouldn't be too jazzed about you saying that gay people are abominations, considering - if we take your word for it - we're _all made in his image_ , right? Which means your vehement denials of homosexuality are also denials of your God's choice to _make_ those people the way they are."

"Homosexuality is a choice!"

"A choice to not deal with men's bullshit, maybe," a female student laughed.

Cobra blinked slowly. "Can you tell by looking at someone if they're gay?"

"Of course!"

"... Am I gay?"

The man paused and stared at him. "What does that have to-"

"For the record," Cobra smirked. "I am. I'm _super_ gay. Some might say I'm so gay that I wear a feathered butt-plug on the weekends and run down the beach in a bedazzled mankini. Uncomfortable yet? Are you thinking that, because I find _men_ sexually attractive, your own masculinity is somehow threatened?"

"You should repent for your sins," the man said. "You're going to hell."

"Well, according to you, my husband's already in hell, so I'm pretty sure I'll be in good company. I mean, soldiers go to hell too, right? Gay soldiers must _especially_ go there. It's gonna be a _literal_ butt-fucking free-for-all down there, and we'll apparently only be twenty miles down, so I'll make sure to moan extra loud for you to hear all my unrepentant heathen fucking."

There was a round of cheers from the crowd that died out quickly when they realized just what he'd said.

"I'd suggest leaving before you get knocked the fuck out," Cobra said, glaring with everything he was worth. "Because while I value my job here and won't ruin my life over making your pathetic ass drink acid, I sorely doubt every single impulsive student listening to your bullshit has the same level of maturity." He paused, then turned toward the crowd. "Seriously, don't fucking go after these assholes. That'll just get you arrested and make them feel more righteous."

He started walking away, ignoring the fire burning across his forehead and how his hands clenched into fists, then stopped when the pseudo-minister spoke again.

"That faggot deserved to die! I hope he suffered!"

Cobra stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. "What did you just call him?"

"I called him a faggot."

"You motherfucker," Cobra sneered. "Don't you dare talk about my husband that way!" He wasn't even aware that he'd lunged for the asshole until there were arms around him and a soft voice drifted from lips pressed against his hair.

"Aw, my cute Coby's gonna smack a bitch for little ol' me?"

Cobra froze, his eye widening and a soft whimper crackling in his chest. Clearly, he'd gone off the fucking deep end. He was hallucinating now. But then the voice said something else, something that only Bickslow would know, because he'd been raised in a religious home and had to point out the flaws his mother's faith concerning her wanting to disown him for his sexuality.

"I'd suggest taking a look at Leviticus," the voice said. "It condemns male same-sex intercourse, which is what I'm sure you're referencing, except it _also_ condemns eating shellfish, rabbit, and pork. And it says you can't cut the sides of your hair short. And that you can't have sex with a woman on her period. But, I mean, you guys do all those things… assuming you actually can find a woman stupid enough to have sex with you anyway. Those prohibitions don't apply to you guys, since you generally just ignore the Old Testament."

"But-" the man started, only to frown when the voice spoke again.

"Also, Paul condemned same-sex _lust_ , not same-lex _love_. Those are completely different things. And the New Testament talks about marriage being about more than procreation, but a bond of something much deeper, and even compares it to God and the church being committed in a partnership. The words might be about different sexes, but the value itself is the same."

Cobra knew this voice. He'd dreamt about it for years - four years, when he thought about the last time they'd spoken - nearly every night. And when he finally found the will to breathe, all he could smell was Bickslow's cologne. Maybe from the bottle that had been sitting on his side of the sink, that Cobra hadn't had the heart to throw away.

"... Bix?" he whispered. "Please tell me I'm not having a nervous breakdown."

The arms around him tightened just a little. Just enough for him to really feel the truth. This was real. And when he looked down and saw the military standard ACU top was missing, that it was just bare forearms wrapped around him - with one still having a tattoo of _Cobra_ across it - he knew it wasn't a dream.

"Not a dream, sexy," he whispered, kissing Cobra's ear. "Sorry I made you wait so long. But I kept all my appendages, so that's a win I guess."

"Y-You're alive?"

"I am," Bickslow whispered, nestling his nose in Cobra's hair. "I missed you so-"

Cobra pushed Bickslow's arms away and whirled in place, looking up into those familiar crimson eyes with the perfect little swirls on the ends. He took in the dark tan on his face, the clean shave of his jaw, his wide lips curled up into the barest of smiles.

Still, the scientist in him knew that hallucinations could be painfully realistic. So, just to be sure, Cobra looked off to the side and singled out a student. "Tell me you see him," he said, not caring that he sounded so desperate.

"Um… The guy with blue hair and weird eyes?" she asked. "Yeah."

Cobra let out a sound that was somewhere between a relieved laugh and a sob, turning back to Bickslow once again. "You motherfucker!" he sniffled, reaching up to grasp his husband's cheeks and pulling him forward so quickly, so forcefully, that their teeth knocked together once their lips met.

But he didn't care about that. A little pain was worth it just to be able to feel Bickslow's arms winding around him again, beneath his lab coat, crushing him to that broad chest. Bickslow's lips moved over his like a man starved, and Cobra couldn't blame him. Even though some part of him knew that making out in the middle of campus was probably going to land him in some shit with the Dean, he didn't care. Not when Bickslow's tongue slipped past his lips.

Not when he bent and grasped at Cobra's thighs, lifting him and wrapping those thin legs around his hips.

"Sinners! This is disgusting!"

"Oi, shut the fuck up you bigoted dick-munch!" one student bellowed.

Cobra drew back, breathless, and smiled down at Bickslow, taking in the small signs of aging he'd missed in the last few years. With a well-placed heel to the back of his husband's knee, Cobra found his smile widening when Bickslow toppled to the ground, happily going right down with him. "You're not dead."

"Nope," Bickslow chuckled, humming softly when Cobra kissed him again.

"I love you, Bickslow," Cobra sniffled between kisses. "I love you so much!"

"I love you too, baby." Bickslow smiled and closed his eyes when Cobra finally collapsed on top of him and cried. His arms wound around Cobra's shaking body, and his eyes closed while he drowned out the sounds of everyone around them, simply letting his maroon-haired husband cry in his arms. "Also, when did you start wearing glittery mankinis? I wanna see."

"Sh-Shut the fuck up," Cobra sobbed, though he was smiling and not trying to hide either from the people around them.

Cobra wouldn't find out until later, when he'd cancelled his classes for the rest of the day and he and Bickslow were driving from the campus back to the base to check in, the truth of his husband's disappearance. But that was a story for another time.

 _ **.The End.**_

* * *

 **I don't do notes at the end very often, but this one does prompt a couple things from me.**

 **1\. While I'm not a religious person, I do not bash other religions or their beliefs, nor do I hate people based on their beliefs alone. The religious people in this chapter are based on my own personal experience at university, and their signs (no bullshit) said those exact same things… I had to reference the video I took of their little gathering just to get the wording right. However, for anyone who has to deal with people like this, being able to use things from their own religious text against them really is a helpful way to combat their hatred. Be informed and be safe. Normally, it's best to ignore them.**

 **2\. The different processes of military funeral things were partially researched in regards to American military; however, this is fiction and set in a fictional modern AU, in a fictional country, so I took some artistic liberty with some parts of it. I am aware that some things may be incorrect in real-world contexts, but this is fiction.**

 **3\. I most likely won't write what happened to Bickslow. I'll leave it up to your imagination to fill in the blanks. Sorry (not sorry lol)**


	7. Simple

**A/N: So, after what I did last chapter, I figured something a little more lighthearted was in order. I am not ashamed to admit that I've done this… Not to** _ **this**_ **extent, but… the first part. Definitely.**

* * *

 _ **Simple  
**_ _Cobra x Lucy  
Rated T_

* * *

He loved his wife. He really and truly fucking loved her with every ounce of the crusty, maimed piece of muscle that was a heart. But the day that Cobra found her standing in a dark pantry, hunched over a box of Pocky, eating two at a time and nearly shoving them down her throat entirely, he questioned just why the hell he'd decided that marrying her was a good idea.

"Uh… Why are you-"

"Shut the fuck up," Lucy hissed around a mouthful of little biscuits covered in chocolate. "And go away."

"No, seriously. Why are you-"

She literally kicked him out of the pantry and shut the door. And while he stood on the other side, staring wide-eyed at the obstruction, he could still hear the soft crinkle of the packaging as she reached for more. "Lucy?"

"What."

Cobra cringed. "Just curious about the why thing."

She let out a heavy sigh and cracked the door before peeking out to glare at him. "When it's just me and Tanner," she said slowly, "If I don't eat snacks in here, he wants them. All of them."

"He eats your Pocky," Cobra nodded. He understood how much she loved it. Not even _he_ was stupid enough to try and get it from her. "Our four-year-old son eats your Pocky, so you hide in the pantry and eat it like a fucking hobgoblin."

"Don't judge me," she muttered. He wasn't even surprised when he saw her hand slide out of the pantry just enough to shove two sticks in her mouth.

"And why are you in the dark?"

"If the light's on, he knows I'm in here."

"He's four."

"He's smart," she spat. Normally, Lucy loved that their son was smarter than most other kids his age. But right then? She sounded as though she was seriously considering taking a hammer to his precious little skull just so he wouldn't catch on so damn fast.

"So, you do this… a lot?" Cobra asked, looking around the spotless kitchen, then back to his wife.

"Once a week. I was busy earlier so I missed out on my Pocky-time. So, I'm making up for it now."

"In the pantry," he said again.

"Yes."

"In the _dark_ pantry."

"Yes."

Cobra sighed softly and pried the door open the rest of the way. "Lucy, Tanner's in bed. He's been asleep for the last three hours. I think it's safe for you to just eat it in the living room."

"Nothing is safe," she whispered, her voice rasping and conspiratorial. He was pretty sure she'd lost the last fucking marble she had.

"What the fuck else do you eat in there?" he asked. Just because the door was open didn't mean she left the pantry. She stood in the same place, even shuffled back a step and away from the light, and pushed more food into her mouth.

"I ate a pulled pork sandwich yesterday for lunch in here."

"You… a whole sandwich… Why?"

"Because if I ate it _out there_ ," she said slowly, "He wouldn't have eaten his vegetables. Also, I put chips on it."

"And he didn't hear the crunching?"

"They were soggy from the barbecue sauce."

Cobra blinked. "... What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm a mother. My life is no longer a simple matter of eating like a human being." She pushed more food into her mouth, glaring at him all the while. "I ate skittles off the floor this morning. I don't know how old they were, but I saw them and they had to be mine."

Slowly, Cobra nodded and carefully shut the door, leaving Lucy inside. In the dark. With her fucking Pocky. "I don't even know what to say to that," he muttered to himself, walking back to the living room and taking his seat on the couch once more.

 _ **.The End.**_


	8. Superfluous Page

**This chapter is not a chapter.**

 **Sorry for the superfluous page**

* * *

This superfluous page was placed here when FFnet failed with the update emails. I've been informed they're fixed, so please click onward to the next chapter.

Thank you for your patience!


	9. Snowflake

**A/N: Who asked me for angst? God, one of these days I'll actually write down the requests I get instead of just telling myself, "Oh, I'll remember who it is when I go to write the chapter." One day... Instead, I have to scour through messages on FFnet to find the request I'm looking for. If you've sent me a request in the past and I haven't done it yet, could you send me a message and request it again? I'm going to create a spreadsheet for them so I don't lose any. Right now, all of my requests are scattered between Google Drive, FFnet, and my social media profiles. I'm a slacker.**

 **Also, there's a subtle (not so subtle) hint in this to another story on this site that you guys should really check out, if you haven't already. It's by a wonderful author,** _ **apriiil**_ **(** _ **raijindork**_ **on tumblr). You'll have to check out her page to find the story that's referenced in this one, but I can assure you, it's definitely worth the read.**

 **So, _samuelbryant_** _ **17**_ **, here's the romantic GaLu angst you asked for. I hope it's angsty enough!**

 ** _Note:_** _This was originally posted as chapter 8, but FFnet decided to screw up and not send out email notifications to my readers. I sincerely apologize to anyone who didn't get the update, but that's why I decided to put a superfluous page for chapter 8, and then make this into chapter 9, that way I know the email will get sent out. Sorry for the wait as well. It took forever for FFnet to sort out its issues. Luckily, I have a bunch of shit written now since I couldn't post anything._

* * *

 _ **Snowflake  
**_ _Gajeel x Lucy  
Rated T_

* * *

He loved her and he wasn't supposed to. Gajeel supposed that was how a lot of relationships went. Because he saw her every single day. And she saw him. They interacted. She told him things about herself and her life that he was positive no one else knew.

But he wasn't supposed to love her. Lucy saw him but she didn't _know_ him, not the way he knew her. Except it didn't matter to Gajeel. She was with him every time his sword slashed through a beast. Every point of experience that brought him closer to the next level of skills.

She'd created him.

Gajeel knew that he was just a bundle of coding and tweaked pixels inside of her computer, just a character in this online fantasy game she loved to play. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to have a mind of his own. He wasn't supposed to be aware of the coded world around him, or able to look out and see the beautiful blonde woman staring down at him.

He wasn't supposed to love her.

There was no one for him to talk to about it though. The other characters in this game were code, like himself, but that's all they were. No matter how often he'd tried to leave the character selection screen, Gajeel couldn't. Even when Lucy went away from the keyboard and left him dancing in the middle of a tavern, the others around him cycled through their set phrases. He watched characters come, controlled by their own players, and recognized when they were in chat with someone.

Once, a code-cluster named Gildarts had been free from his creator, waiting for the person to return. Gajeel had tried and tried to get some sort of reaction from Gildarts between during the loops in his dance emote, but there was nothing. This redhaired man wearing a fur cloak, towering over him and more intimidating by the gargantuan battle axe strapped to his back, was just well-formed binary. He didn't have a mind like Gajeel.

No one in the game did.

* * *

Months after his creation, he heard her on the phone. Lucy tended to leave the character selection screen on when she wasn't playing. It meant that he could simply stand in one place and watch her with ease while she was in her bedroom. She sat down at the computer and he felt the tickle of the cursor as it grabbed his hand and gave him a slow spin on his selection pedestal.

"It's the coolest game ever, Levy," she said. "I've got a level forty warrior with some of the best armor in the game."

Gajeel had to admit, he did like this new armor she'd gotten on that quest they spent an hour working through. The boss had been tough, and he'd been positive quite a few times that he was going to die. But Lucy just kept pushing forward, using the quickbar she'd set up to have him throw a few knives to stun the boss, then drink a couple potions to heal. They'd made it through what should have been a party quest. And they'd done it solo.

"It's got amazing stats," Lucy said to her friend on the phone. "It cuts the cooldown rate for abilities by seventy percent. I know, right? It's amazing!"

He loved listening to her gush about the game. About the work she put into him. She was so proud of him and what he'd accomplished.

"You should run with me sometime," Lucy said. "Yeah, I know you're not all that into gaming, but I think you'll like it."

Gajeel didn't like that though. He didn't want to spend his time with some other person and their binary character with no brain. Lucy had done it before, and he'd spent two whole weeks helping some newb level up only for the player to quit when their free trial ran out. All that time, running quests that he could clear in a matter of minutes, waiting for them to read through the NPC prompts and choose their gear while Lucy talked them through which ones to choose and what to avoid based on their class. All of it had been for nothing.

"It's called Fairies of Fiore."

He thought the name of the game was weird. Then again, maybe that was because he wasn't a fairy. All the player characters he'd seen running around were fairies, able to fly and so much more. But Lucy had made him something else entirely. She'd been one of the few that had the ability to choose this race and class when she'd beta tested the game, and he'd been so thankful that she'd kept playing and he'd gotten transferred over to the real game once it was released. He didn't lose her.

But instead of being a fairy, Gajeel was a rare Dragon Slayer. A humanoid race infused with the power of ancient dragons. Instead of glittery magic or sorcery, he was able to roar and slash and claw at his foes with shards of metal for his ability bar. He'd only met one other Dragon Slayer during their questing, a blond named Laxus whose creator always used his Lightning Slayer abilities as a last resort.

"Yeah, I'll help you make your character," she laughed. "Bring your laptop over. I'll show you Gajeel."

She said his name. He loved when she said his name. It meant she thought of him as something more than code. Maybe. That's how it felt anyway.

"Oh my god, Levy," Lucy said, grinning. "Gajeel's a total badass. He's got this really cool roar ability that deals bleed damage on top of cutting enemy movement in half. It's _metal_! I know! Super awesome!"

She was talking about him! Gajeel paused when the cursor let go of his hand, and he hid a smile when she clicked on his name and logged in. He appeared in the town square and his legs started moving at a brisk trot. From her conversation, they were going shopping for some low-level potions that she hadn't needed for a long time.

Apparently this Levy girl was going to download and patch the game and start her free trial.

* * *

She never gave up. He really loved that about her. Even when she started struggling in her university classes because she spent more time with him than on her homework, she never left the game. She never left him.

He didn't even care that Lucy liked dressing him up in a ridiculous bunny singlet that he was sure the game developers had laughed their asses over. He ran whole raids in that skimpy little costume cosmetic that was probably meant for female characters, but available for males as well. But it made her smile to see him wearing it, so he accepted it.

He wished he could be with her in more than just this game though. Gajeel wished he could talk to her, climb through the screen and kiss her. She was so beautiful, he sometimes had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that _she_ hadn't been created by algorithms. She was a real human. No one had spent hours tweaking her cheek bones. those perfectly pouty lips, or her captivating honey eyes. She was just born with perfection under her skin.

He knew something was wrong when her bedroom disappeared from his sight. She was out getting drinks with Levy - the woman who made a green-haired Fairy that focused more on crafting and lore than actual fights - but had left the character selection screen on, as usual.

The computer he appeared on was better than Lucy's. It ran faster than hers. Then again, Gajeel knew she'd been meaning to get an upgrade. She was just waiting for the newest event to be finished so she didn't miss out on anything while she was formatting and downloading the game.

Gajeel figured maybe she was on someone else's computer, showing him off again. She'd done that a few times over the past year since the game's release.

But it wasn't Lucy on the other side of the screen. It was a young man with a pimply face. He was shirtless and sitting in his boxers and so fucking skinny that he looked as though he was going to die from dehydration.

"Dude, this guy is decked the fuck out! Oh my god, look at his gear! You can't… you can't even get this now!"

A fucking hacker. Lucy had gotten her account hacked. Gajeel had heard her talking about it to her boyfriend, how she was worried that someone might try to hack her account since she was one of the few beta testers that was still playing. Gajeel had gear that few in the game could get. But when he focused, he recognized the IP address he was connected to. This was someone who had run a raid with them a few weeks prior. He'd played a low-level healer who had been begging people to help him get through the raid for the end rewards.

Lucy had helped this guy get through it, along with four other people. He hadn't done a whole lot of anything aside from getting killed and having to respawn over and over, while Lucy and Gajeel and the others in the group tore through the Alvarez Army.

"Fuck this dude," the man said. He sneered at the screen, at Gajeel and his high level gear. "I didn't get into the beta, but this asshole did? He's ruining the game for everyone."

That was bullshit. Lucy played for the fun of it. She wasn't ruining the game.

"Well, if I can't have this shit then he can't either."

That wasn't good. Gajeel felt the cursor moving to select him. Lucy only had the one character. She didn't need anyone else, and he wasn't going to fail her. Gajeel didn't care if all of their money was taken. They could get more of it easily. But hackers tended to go after gear. Or they deleted characters and left low-level pieces of shit behind.

He wasn't going to let this asshole ruin all the hard work they'd put into Fairies of Fiore. He wasn't going to let Lucy down. He definitely wasn't going to watch her cry as she logged in to find him wearing nothing but the standard undergarments the developers created.

For the first time, Gajeel acted on his own.

He froze the cursor before it could move to select him and log in. He thought he was successful until the man hit enter on his keyboard and subverted his attempt to stop the intrusion.

Gajeel felt himself being whisked from the character screen into the home he and Lucy had bought a month prior. They were still working on upgrading it. She'd been taking him on quest after quest to get materials to build more onto the house. She wanted to turn it into a castle, but that took time. They were so close! He couldn't let her lose this. After all the long hours they'd spent doing those stupid little quests, she would be devastated. It might even make her stop playing altogether, and he couldn't have that. Gajeel needed her to keep playing.

He felt the screen load and did the only thing he could think to do. With his bunny cosmetic outfit on, he began the dance emote all on his own. The man on the other side of the computer snorted and tried to get to his inventory, but there was no fucking way he was letting it happen. Every time he hit the _I_ button, Gajeel closed it down. Every hotkey the asshole pressed, Gajeel worked against.

It was exhausting, trying to do this himself. Lucy always did this for him. She gave him commands and he followed easily because of his programming. But fighting that programming? Stopping the man from destroying her work? It was like ripping the code from his gut and smearing it on the walls.

It went on for hours. Maybe for days. By the end, Gajeel couldn't be sure just how long he'd been fighting against the urge to let it happen, to give up. But Lucy had made him to be a fighter. She'd given him a backstory and attributes that made up his character.

He was the son of a great Iron dragon, taught his Dragon Slayer magic to rid the world of evil. He was stubborn and strong. He always fought for the little guy, the underdog. She'd made him the perfect man in her eyes, everything she wanted a warrior to be. And damnit, he was a fucking warrior!

No matter how much his programming rebelled against his own decisions, no matter how painful it was to force himself to ignore the commands coming from the hacker's keyboard and mouse, Gajeel refused to give up. This was for Lucy. For her, he'd tear this whole game to shreds.

The hacker tried to log out, but Gajeel didn't let him. He just kept dancing in his bunny costume.

For her, he'd find a way to get a real body and kiss her and love her, the way he wanted. Only if she asked it of him.

For Lucy, he would never give in to this other player. He couldn't. He couldn't lose her.

Gajeel collapsed when the internet connection faltered and he was whisked away from the foreign computer. He knew it took no time at all in the real world for his code to transfer to a different machine, but for him it was like a whole day passed. He rested and panted on the floor of his and Lucy's home, un-equipping the bunny costume so he could be more comfortable in his thick armor.

He could hear his epaulets adorned with dragon horns creaking as his body trembled. But he'd done it. He was sure he'd succeeded.

A quick check of their inventory in his mind showed that everything was still there, untouched. He didn't need to run down to the closest banker in town to know that nothing had been taken. Gajeel had made sure the hacker couldn't get to the bank.

And he knew for a fact that another character wasn't being made. Lucy had made a couple spare characters, and Gajeel knew the feeling of her working on another set of code in their little world. She always deleted them. Her reasoning was sound, in his opinion. She preferred her Dragon Slayer.

He was _her_ Dragon Slayer.

Another IP address pinged in the air and rippled across his body, gentle as it pulled him to his feet. Gajeel swiped his hands across his face, and closed his eyes to gather his bearings. When they opened again, he was on the character select pedestal once more.

And there she was on the other side of the screen, wearing her favorite red tank top with her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and puffy, and even though he could still see tears streaming down her cheeks, she was so much more beautiful to him right then.

He was back with her. Lucy was there, looking at him, smiling so wide that his ones and zeroes wobbled just a little.

"You're still here, Gajeel," she sniffled. "Thank god you're still here!"

Of course he was here. He would always be here for her. Gajeel just wished he could tell her that.

"Lucy?" Gajeel wanted to hate the soft male voice that drifted in from somewhere off the screen. But that asshole made Lucy smile. She was happy with him.

"Macbeth," she laughed. Her fingers gently touched the screen and for the first time, Gajeel _felt_ her touch. "Macbeth, he's still here."

"Your character?"

"Gajeel," she said, nodding. "I got hacked and… But he's still here!"

Gajeel couldn't move from his spot. He couldn't turn away, even when Lucy shifted in her seat and hugged her boyfriend. He couldn't look anywhere but at the woman he loved as Macbeth's lipstick smudged across her lips when they kissed. And even though part of him wished he could just put the computer to sleep when she grabbed Macbeth's hand and led him to the bed, Gajeel couldn't. He didn't know if he was even capable of it, but he decided that he much preferred watching Macbeth strip her beautiful body down and lay her on the bed and take her so fucking gently. He wanted to be here with Lucy, not in the blackness that was her sleeping computer.

Listening to her soft mewls of pleasure was a whole lot better than fighting that hacker. He was tired, so fucking tired, but this was his reward. He was home with her again, and when a part of his mind drifted through the coding, he found Lucy's password had been changed. She'd learned her lesson about making decent passwords, apparently. All because she loved him.

When she cried out her boyfriend's name, Gajeel heard his own name instead.

* * *

He was with her through everything. Through her marriage to Macbeth that lasted a couple years and through a miscarriage and one full-term pregnancy. Lucy always made time for Gajeel. When their daughter was sleeping and Macbeth was at work, Lucy would jump on Fairies of Fiore and run quests with Gajeel for a few hours.

She would apologize to him for not being around as much. He knew that she was saying it to make herself feel like they had a connection. She didn't know he could actually hear her. Time passed differently for him. While he didn't age in the slightest, because it wasn't in his coding, Lucy did. She got more beautiful. She grew up and became more mature.

There weren't any people that she knew in real life that played with her, but she'd even had him join a guild.

Her favorite joke to tell him was, "Since I don't have as much time to play, maybe you can make some friends in the guild."

Lucy didn't keep the character selection screen open any longer, so he didn't get to watch her as often. He missed the way things used to be, but he understood it. The time they did have together was precious.

What felt like only seconds between her logins was actually months. He could only tell by the little girl in Lucy's arms and the timestamp when he made the effort to check. On one quest in November, while he ripped apart an army of undead soldiers, Lucy's daughter was a newborn in her swing, barely visible to him in the corner of the screen. The next time she logged in it was August; the little girl was crawling and giggling in her playpen.

He didn't usually see the arguments Lucy had with Macbeth, but sometimes they would happen while she was logged in and trying to spend a little time with Gajeel. Macbeth didn't want her to play anymore. He said she needed to focus on their family, not on _some stupid game_.

Gajeel thought he was a prick.

Suddenly, he started seeing her more often. Every week. Every couple days. Every day for a few hours. And then she was back, just like she'd been before.

She confided in him one night that Macbeth had divorced her and got custody of their daughter. It broke Lucy's heart, and seeing her like that only made Gajeel more determined than ever to make her proud to have him in her life.

She still had her daughter on weekends. Lucy played the game when she took naps, apologizing to Gajeel when she had to set him to _AFK_ when the little girl woke up crying. He didn't mind it. Lucy's daughter was precious, and he understood that she needed her mother.

Even though he wished that the little girl with platinum blonde hair and wide crimson eyes was _his_ daughter with Lucy, Gajeel still found himself falling for her as though she was his own child.

Fairies of Fiore didn't have a system to allow the characters to marry and have kids. He didn't want that anyway. If it wasn't Lucy, he wasn't interested. He didn't want a little child made out of binary that couldn't think and feel like he did.

Instead, he watched Lucy lift the three-year-old girl onto her lap. "Can you find the number 2?" she asked.

Her daughter pressed the right button and Gajeel sent out a roar of screeching metal. His coding shivered when she giggled with glee.

"That's his Iron Dragon's Roar," Lucy said. "Do you want to see what else Gajeel can do?"

"More more!" the girl laughed.

Gajeel was never more proud of the abilities he and Lucy had carefully crafted over the years. Lucy was able to use him to teach her daughter. Numbers, letters, hand-eye coordination. She learned how to make him run and jump and slash his sword. And when she finished a level one quest - the enemies couldn't hit him more often than not, and when they did it only took one hit point away that he healed after thirty seconds - Gajeel was just so damn proud of the little girl.

"That was perfect, Leann," Lucy said. He loved seeing her smile at her daughter. "I think you're better with Gajeel than Mommy!"

* * *

Leann was seven when she logged in on Fairies of Fiore without Lucy for the first time. Gajeel stood there, looking at the little girl and seeing just how much of her mother was in her. He'd spent so much time with them over the years, she felt like his own daughter now. Sure, he wasn't there for her birthdays or holidays, and he couldn't hug her and wipe away her tears, but he still had a purpose.

He was her friend, even if she didn't know it.

But that day, she was crying. And he wanted more than anything to know what had happened to make her cry. He wanted to destroy it, if only to see her smile again. He wondered where Lucy was at, but maybe she'd told Leann that she could play with him. He was still the only character on Lucy's account, after all.

Leann selected him and once the screen loaded, he felt her aimlessness as she directed him down one snowy street and another in town. He couldn't feel any coldness from the pixelated snowflakes falling on him, but he definitely appreciated that the developers added a patch to make little steamy clouds puff out with his simulated breaths. She took him to the guild and emoted with a few players, making him dance and sing and lie down on the top of light fixtures. Eventually, she took Gajeel back to the castle he and Lucy had built. They went from one room to another for nearly an hour before she spoke. Just like her mother, Leann talked to Gajeel from time to time as though he was a real person.

He was sure that made him love the two blondes even more.

"Mama's dead, Gajeel," Leann whispered. That couldn't be right. Lucy couldn't die. "She… She was at work and there was a bank robbery, and… S-Some guy shot her."

She had him sit down at a table. If it hadn't been for his coding, he would have collapsed already, so he was thankful that she allowed him to sit.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Leann said. She dragged the cursor around the screen in random patterns. "Dad doesn't want me to play this game. He says he won't pay to keep Mama's account, and… He says the game is why they got divorced, because she paid more attention to it than us."

That wasn't true though. Gajeel knew that Lucy went whole months without playing when Leann was still a baby. She'd never talked to him about why she'd divorced Macbeth, but he didn't mind it. That asshole was never good enough for Lucy anyway.

"Dad says… I have to focus on my studies," she said. "That I don't need the distraction. But… This was Mama's game. She loved it, and…"

He knew why she stopped talking, why she was staring at him with suddenly wide eyes. Without her command, Gajeel started crying. It wasn't the normal crying emote, either. He sobbed and dropped his head to his hands. His armored shoulders quaked.

She couldn't be dead. This just couldn't be right. But he knew when looking at Leann that it was the truth. Lucy was really gone. She'd never known that he could hear her, that he'd loved her for over a decade. He would never get to tell her, to see her in the middle of the night all curled up in her fuzzy red blanket while she sipped cocoa.

And if he didn't do something, he could lose Leann too. She was his little girl. Gajeel couldn't lose her too. With Lucy gone, Leann was all he had left.

His head lifted and for the first time since his creation, Gajeel tried to talk to the person on the other side of the screen, to the seven-year-old girl controlling his movements.

"You're not alone though," Gajeel said. She gasped when his words appeared in a bubble over his head, even though she hadn't typed anything for him to say in the game.

"What…"

"I was with yer Mom for years," he said. "I'll be with you too."

"You… what?" Her brows furrowed as she stared at the text. "Is this a weird glitch or something?"

"It's not a glitch. I don't know why my coding is like this, but… I've been like this since the beta. Since she made me." Gajeel stood from the table and wiped his eyes, not noticing how Leann went a little pale. "She's really gone?"

Leann nodded slowly.

"Please don't delete me. Don't stop playin'," he said. "If you stop, then all the years I spent with her will be for nothin'. I watched her and loved her so much. And I was so happy to be the character she made. I was so happy to be the one you learned to play this game with. And you've gotten so much better."

"But Papa said…"

He looked right at the screen, something he'd always tried avoiding before with Lucy. If she was looking right at him and he was in the game, he couldn't look right at her. But now… This was important. Maybe if he'd just talked to Lucy like he was with Leann, things would be different. Maybe she would have…

"Please," he whispered. "If you keep playin', I'll tell you anything you wanna know about her. Everything she told me. Did you know I saved us from getting hacked? She was so happy to see me again. And you can talk to me like Lucy did. You can confide in me, and I'll always be here for ya. I swear it."

"But I don't like games like this all that much."

"Please," he said. He could feel more tears careening down his smooth pixel cheeks. "Please don't give up on me. I need you. Don't delete me. Please don't leave me, Leann."

She gasped and toppled backward out of her computer chair, and all he could do was watch while the little girl ran from the room. Gajeel had to trust her though. He knew it was a lot to take in, but he needed her. He'd needed Lucy and now that she was gone, Leann was it.

Macbeth came storming into the room with Leann trailing behind him. "What happened?"

Gajeel turned away from the screen, closing his eyes and quickly swiping away the vulnerability he'd let the little girl see. Warriors didn't cry, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Macbeth, of all people, see him like that.

"Gajeel started talking to me," Leann said.

"It's just a game, Leann," Macbeth sighed. He looked toward the computer, to the character on the screen wearing heavy onyx armor and holding a sword in his hand. "Maybe it's part of the coding."

"Uh-uh," she whimpered. "He… He knows my name. Dad, I'm scared!"

Macbeth frowned and went to the computer. He stared down at Lucy's character, then took a seat and scrolled to the top of the chat window to see the transcript of what Gajeel had said. "Leann, tell me the truth," he said slowly. "Did you type this?"

She shook her head. "Did Mama really get hacked?"

"That was years ago," Macbeth said. "No one knows about that except for me."

"Gajeel knows."

Macbeth's frown deepened and he logged out of the game. Gajeel found himself on the character selection screen once again, looking directly at the man Lucy had once loved, and the scared little girl who'd just lost her mother.

"Leann, you swear you didn't write that?" Macbeth asked. She nodded and Gajeel watched as Macbeth's eyes narrowed. "I've seen too many horror movies, courtesy of your mother, to ignore this."

Gajeel wanted to fight the cursor as it glided across the screen toward the trash bin. He'd done this before with that hacker and he could do it again. He just had to stop Macbeth from deleting him.

The cursor hesitated when Gajeel forced it to slow.

But while he fought to keep himself around, he thought back to Lucy. Her beautiful smile and how she'd laughed while running him through dungeon after dungeon. How she yelled at the screen and told him to kill his enemies and take no prisoners. How much fun they'd had together, and how much of herself she'd poured into making him the best warrior he could be.

She was really gone. And the last time he'd seen her was just that morning before she left for work. Lucy had just sat with him on the selection screen while she drank her coffee. She talked to him, told him about what she was planning that night - a nice bubble bath and some chocolates.

She'd said that he was the only one who understood her sometimes. He was the only one she could talk to about the important things.

But if she'd just died, why was her computer at Leann's? Why was it in Leann's bedroom? Gajeel checked the timestamp on the computer.

Lucy had logged in on her birthday in July.

It was snowing in the game, and that only happened in December.

Five months. She'd been gone for five whole months and he was only just finding out about it. And only because of Leann. He never would have known otherwise. How long would he have thought everything in the real world was fine if Leann hadn't logged on to play the game? He didn't even know what would have happened if Lucy's account was suspended. If no one used the account, would he get deleted anyway?

But Gajeel knew, when he felt the cursor moving more easily, it was a losing battle. For the first time, he was in a fight he couldn't win. Because Lucy had been the one who gave him the strength to face his enemies. She'd known just how to move him, how and when to dodge. She knew when to retreat and regroup. The love of his pixelated life was the strategist. She was a genius. And without her, he was just a cluster of ones and zeroes. He was nothing more than algorithms and codes and data. Gajeel didn't want to be here without Lucy. He wanted her back.

His ruby gaze shifted from Macbeth to Leann. They didn't need him like Lucy had. Leann would grow up and probably never think of playing video games again. Macbeth had never liked Fairies of Fiore to begin with. No, they didn't need him.

He'd always been a warrior for one woman, for Lucy.

Macbeth clicked on the delete icon and the pop-up window weighed down Gajeel's chest. This was it.

 **Are you sure you want to delete** _ **Gajeel Redfox**_ **?**

Gajeel's eyes burned with fresh tears when Macbeth hesitated over the _Yes_ button. He looked at Lucy's ex-husband, and their eyes met just as Macbeth clicked it. For the briefest of moments, Macbeth saw him. He saw that there was more to Gajeel than a mindless character. But it was too late to take it back, to find out how he'd seen the armored avatar crying with hunched, defeated shoulders and clenched fists and devastated ruby eyes.

Gajeel disappeared from the screen, thinking about the woman who made him, who loved him in her own way. His code dissipated, and with it, the memories of the years he spent loving Lucy.

 _ **.The End.**_

* * *

 **A huge thanks to your patience, guys. I wanted this to come out to you sooner.**

 **Also, for anyone who's interested, I posted a Mayuri/Nemu family fic recently. No romance in it, but... I really love it.**


	10. Denial

**A/N: The next three in this collection were originally posted on tumblr as part of a challenge. I figured I might as well try my best to pair them with prompts for this drabble series, that way you guys also get to read them, and I don't have to make extra random one shots. Prompt at the end. Also, to make up for the sadness from chapters six and nine, the next three are also just precious, fluffy, or comedy.**

* * *

 _ **Denial  
**_ _Jellal x Cobra  
Rated T/M  
_

* * *

Erik was officially done with Jellal's moping. First he'd chalked it up to the hellish cold that had ripped through their house. The fact that they actually _had_ a house in the first place still baffled him, nearly as much as the entirety of Crime Sorciere living there and not murdering one another on a daily basis.

But Jellal's cold was long gone. Sorano and Meredy had gotten everyone out, with their reasoning being that they needed to get some fresh air. Jellal had refused for reasons he refused to divulge. Erik said there was cleaning that needed to be done. At the mention of the _C-word_ , they'd all disappeared. It wasn't like he cared all that much anyway. Everyone else fucking sucked at cleaning.

Erik walked through the house and pushed the door to Jellal's room open, glaring at the mound of blankets on his bed.

The mopey little blueberry muffin was curled up in blankets that he'd stolen from Macbeth's room - a wise choice, since Macbeth was a master at choosing blankets. And Erik was more than fucking done with that. It was nonsense. Utter bullshit, even. Shoving twenty-seven cactus spines in his goddamn urethra just for shits and giggles made more sense than that woe-is-me bullshit happening with Jellal.

And Erik was absolutely against sounding with cactus spines.

He stalked forward and pulled every bit of fuzzy fabric from around Jellal, then dragged him out of the bed. "Come with me," Erik spat.

"Erik, just leave me alone…"

"No fucking way. If I have to listen to you like this for much longer, I will go insane."

Jellal huffed and pushed Erik's hands away, toppling back onto the bed. He glared up at Erik and bunched up one blanket to wrap his arms around it. "You're already insane."

"True," Erik chuckled. "But I've been relatively good as of late. Let's keep that up."

"What do you want?"

"I waxed the floors," Erik said. "So grab your fluffy socks."

Jellal blinked slowly, and Erik really had to make an effort not to laugh at the utterly perplexed knit to his brows. "You… huh?"

Gently, with much more tenderness than he let anyone see, Erik reached forward and took Jellal's hands in his. He pulled Jellal up and pressed their chests together, laced their fingers, and looked right into his eyes. "Fluffy socks, waxed floor," he whispered, smirking. "Time to get out of this funk."

"It's not a funk."

Erik chuckled and pulled Jellal along with him. Thankfully, the asshole stopped fighting him. He paused once they were at the living room and moved to stand behind Jellal with his arms wrapped around that thin, familiar waist. Erik's tongue snaked out and gently teased his earlobe. "Put on the socks and race me to the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Because while you were moping about not getting any fucking Thin Mints, I sent out a couple feelers and found a crate of them."

"You used black market contacts for Girl Scout cookies?" Jellal chuckled. "Erik…"

"Don't pretend you're disappointed." He sighed when Jellal's head turned and their lips met for a brief moment. "And you're welcome. Now… first one to the crate wins."

"What's the prize?"

Erik grinned and felt Jellal shiver. "Whatever you want." He'd never seen someone's eyes flash with so much excitement. And he'd never seen Jellal move as quickly as he did to pull on one pair of fuzzy socks that Erik had left on the floor for both of them.

His ridiculous boyfriend was such a slut for Thin Mints.

Then again, Erik was too. He just wasn't going to tell Jellal that he used his connections with Fiore's seedy underbelly every time those little girls went around selling their cookies. That was his own little secret.

 _ **.The End.**_

* * *

 **So the prompt was… "I waxed the floors, grab your fluffy socks."** **as requested by** _**infinitespaceinsomniac**_ **on tumblr.**


	11. Look

**A/N: I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this. Here's another tumblr challenge post for the drabble collection. In case you were wondering, whenever I write a tumblr challenge (they don't happen too often, but whatever) they end up being relatively short. Prompt at the end.**

* * *

 _ **Look  
**_ _Cobra x Lucy  
Rated T  
_

* * *

Lucy stood at the doorway to her kitchen with a washcloth over her mouth and nose. Cobra knelt on the tile floor only a few feet from her, rummaging through the cupboard under her kitchen sink. It wasn't the first time he'd gone through her cleaning supplies. She'd all but resigned herself to accepting that he was going to do it as soon as he came into the apartment, as he'd done for the past three months.

Except the difference this time was that he'd taken one whiff of the air and nearly knocked her out with the washcloth without any explanation at all.

He was weird, sure, but Cobra wasn't normally _this_ weird.

"I heard that."

Lucy sighed and narrowed her eyes at his ass. Stupid beautiful ass that it was. If he hadn't threatened her with feathers between her toes until she pissed her pants should she say a single word, Lucy would have told him-

"There," he said, scooting back and sitting up. His hand lifted toward her and Lucy's attention shifted to the blackened muck on the tips of his fingers. "You've got some serious mold issues in this place."

Lucy whimpered and took a small step back. That wasn't good. Wasn't black mold _deadly_? Was she going to die? Oh god. What if she was sick, but not sick enough to show any symptoms? What if it just hadn't been long enough and she would go months and months with no idea that she was sick at all, and then one day, right in the middle of a job, she just couldn't move and she ended up getting slaughtered by some insane mage? All because of black mold under her kitchen sink. Was it other places in her apartment? In the walls? She was sure she'd seen a black spot or two in her shower, and-

Cobra shook his head and popped his fingers in his mouth, and Lucy screamed behind her hand when she saw him sucking on them.

"What?" he asked once his fingers were clean.

She pulled the washcloth away from her mouth just enough to speak. "You really…" Lucy shook her head and took another step back to get a little further from the sink. "That's not exactly meant to be eaten, Cobra!"

He stood and washed his hands with scalding water and her dish soap. Before Lucy could say it wasn't just his hands that were dirty, he chuckled and poured a generous amount of soap into his mouth.

"That's not either!"

Cobra gulped down the soap and a little bit of water, then turned toward her.

She wasn't sure what she'd done wrong until he pulled a feather out from the inner pocket of his white jacket. Why the hell was he carrying a feather around?!

"Exactly," Cobra chuckled, advancing on her. "And as long as I put some soap with mold, it acts like a poison when I ingest it. So I'm fine."

Lucy dropped the washcloth and dashed toward her open window, then screamed when Cobra's arm wrapped around her middle. She was halfway out the window, and getting a good bit of attention from the people on the street, when he placed the washcloth over her face and dragged her back inside.

In moments, Lucy was pinned to the floor and screaming and giggling behind a washcloth while Cobra tickled her with a feather. Just like he'd promised.

 _ **.The End.**_

* * *

 **So the prompt was… "You really… That's not exactly meant to be eaten"** **as requested by** _**hellosparkyislove**_ **on tumblr.**

 **Update:**

Also, a special Public Service Announcement from _17_. I should have put something to this effect when I posted the chapter, especially since I'm allergic to penicillin and even a small exposure to mold can send me to the hospital. But, I'll just quote him instead:

 _Mold is no joke. Especially Black Mold. While Mold is the root of Penicillin, some people are DEATHLY allergic to it. Mold is okay as long as it is not disturbed, because it's the spores that can actually make you ill. The best way to treat Mold Infestation is with warm soapy water, if it's not too bad- Surface Mold. And ALWAYS wear protective gear like long sleeves, Rubber Dish Gloves, and some sort of mask or Respirator to prevent the inhalation of the spores. NEVER touch any sort of Mold with bare skin as it can get absorbed through contact making you ill. And especially keep children and pets away from Moldy areas. If the Mold Infestation is deeper, like on Drywall, spray with soapy water before taking it down, it keeps the spores from being disturbed as well as keeping the dust down, and DOUBLE BAG it sealing it with Duct Tape._

So, be careful when you see mold, guys.


	12. Move

**A/N: So this was the first request thing on tumblr that I got from the wonderful** _ **apriiil**_ **(** _ **raijindork**_ **on tumblr). Honestly I didn't know what to do with it right away, but I really liked writing these short little things. Prompt at the end.**

 **I've got a couple more requests that I need to write, but it'll be a bit before those are done.**

* * *

 _ **Move  
**_ _Gajeel x Lucy  
Rated T  
_

* * *

She was perfect. He loved her so fucking much that sometimes Gajeel wondered whose dick he'd sucked in a past life to have her with him.

"Gaj, this is insane."

"Shut up and don't move." Lucy was the light in his life. No, that was too cliché. She was a million suns. No, goddamnit, that had already been said before. He needed something different, something that was just… her.

"My back hurts."

"Bunny, just a little longer." His gaze never left the page and the random scribbles across it. The only sound that broke up the soft tap of an eraser against paper was her breathing, the gentle thrum of her heart. He wasn't aware that his taps had slowed to match that steady beat. But that was it. It's what was missing. He needed to sort out the rhythm first before he could get much further.

And he was sure Lucy would be needing a break any second.

He looked up just in time to see her wobble, and Gajeel dropped the notepad to the floor and lunged from the couch. His knees scraped across the carpeted floor and both arms shot beneath her bowed back when she finally lost the will to stay perched in a backbend.

Once she felt his arms, the tension in Lucy's limbs lessened and she collapsed entirely. He carefully laid her on the floor, smiling when the gentle honey pools of her eyes glared up at him. "Can you explain to me why the hell I was being a pretzel?"

"I was writing a song," he said. "I needed to see you do it."

"... What?"

Gajeel chuckled and brushed a hand through his hair when she slowly sat up. "Yer my favorite muse, Bunny."

"I'm your only muse," she muttered. He watched her stretch, listened to the soft creak of her muscles tightening in tandem before she sighed and stood. "Now, I'm going to make dinner, and tonight you'll give me a back rub for this."

"You got it." He could agree to that. Lucy's skin was so soft, and he loved listening to her quietly delighted moans when he worked out one knot after another. The fact that he nearly always got her naked and screaming his name right after a massage was just a perk.

He watched her walk away, then looked back to the notepad he'd dropped. Gajeel closed his eyes and pictured her again, softly whispering to himself,

 _Bunny in a bow,  
Bends down so low,  
Just look at her go.  
Shoo-bi-doo-doh_

"Damn," Gajeel sighed. "Still needs work." It was good, but it could be better. And that only meant that he'd need Lucy to get back into a backbend after dinner so he could be inspired once again. Really, it was all her fault for doing yoga in the living room.

 _ **.The End.**_

* * *

 **So the prompt was… "You're my favorite muse"** **as requested by** _**apriiil**_ **.**


	13. Companion

**A/N: And we're back with another little doodly thing! I know, I should be working on getting my main stories updated, but the plot bunny beckoned. I'm shameless. This was supposed to just be a short little story with fluff and all that, but then it turned into… this. This 13k monstrosity. I considered making it into its own story (breaking this huge chapter up into a couple smaller ones) but decided against it, since it was supposed to be for this "Drabble" series anyway.**

 **Also, I'd like to ask that you excuse any mistranslations in the foreign language bits that show up here and there. Google Translate isn't always accurate, but it's the best I've got. In case you're curious, I decided to use some Welsh... from Google. I apologize to any who speak Welsh, if this is incorrect (feel free to correct it in a PM, if you'd like. I'm more than happy to make it more accurate).**

 **So enjoy a Modern AU thing.**

 **(Huge shout-out to _Dragon'shost_ for reading through this for me! I'm so glad you liked it!)**

* * *

 _ **Companion  
**_ _Acnologia x Lucy  
Rated T/M_

* * *

Acnologia hated flying. Well, to be more accurate, he hated flying in airplanes. It had been centuries since the age of true magic had passed. In that time, humans had advanced technologically by leaps and bounds. The final war with Zeref had left the entire continent that had once been Fiore in quite the state. Everything had been turned upside down with Irene's ridiculous spell.

Natsu and the other Dragon Slayers had fought so hard to defeat Acnologia that day. He remembered the burn of Igneel's son's flames; occasionally, he could still feel the phantom heat on his left side. But while they'd thought he'd been defeated, Acnologia had had one final trick up his sleeve: a spell that had long been forgotten. The dragon he'd inherited his magic from had taught it to him, and with the other dragons having been felled by his own hands, no other Slayers had learned it after him.

No, that wasn't right. One other had riddled out how to use the spell, but she'd made it her own and branded it one of the three great spells of Fairy Tail.

What that little blonde wretch of a girl, Mavis, called _Fairy Sphere_ , Acnologia knew of by its original name, it's true name. _Cylch y Ddraig_ , the Ring of the Dragon. A spell powerful enough, when used properly, to suspend the caster in stasis in an alternate dimension for an innumerable amount of time. He'd spent the better part of three hundred years in his own _cylch_ after the battle with the Dragon Slayers. When he'd emerged, everything had changed. The world had moved on without him.

Magical guilds had already started to drift into the realm of fantastical stories. Humans had moved on, and Acnologia… Well, he spent years trying to assimilate just what he'd missed out on. He was still reclusive, but with all the Dragon Slayers having finally died out - there were still traces of their bloodlines here and there, but those were so diluted, it didn't even matter anymore - he was at a bit of a loss on just what to do with himself.

" _First call for priority seating on Flight 8327 to Seattle."_

With a heavy sigh, he stood from the plush seat he'd taken residence in three hours earlier while waiting for his connecting flight. Acnologia folded his black topcoat over his arm - he was more than happy to have found a blacksmith when he'd emerged from his slumber who could make him a prosthetic arm for his human form, and that they always had apprentices who could create him new ones as he needed them over the years - and gathered his laptop bag and the cup of coffee he'd been sipping at.

Who would have thought that the great Chaos Dragon of the Apocalypse would be where he was right then? He had the ability to change into a dragon, yet he chose to walk through the crowded airport and board a ridiculous metal monstrosity packed with too many people. He'd once bathed in the blood of his enemies, had thrilled at the thought of decimating countrysides. Now, in this day and age, he was an antiques collector.

He was stuck in the past that no human truly believed in. His own presence in the history books was nonexistent. No, instead, he and the others of his time had been relegated to fairy tales (the irony of it was not lost on him in the slightest). His own story was nothing more than a myth to scare children, even though his name was never mentioned in it.

Acnologia took one final sip of his coffee and tossed it in a trash bin while walking toward his flight. He walked past crying and screaming infants, arguing couples, clearly jetlagged businessmen, and with each step he was made more and more aware of the reason he kept to himself in this day and age. He missed the days when things were quieter, when nature reigned supreme and humans lived in small villages.

The scent of a dog caught his attention while rounding a corner, and his keen emerald gaze honed in on it in an instant. If his nose hadn't told him that it was a dog, he would have questioned just how security had allowed such a monstrous creature past their checkpoints.

A blonde woman stood next to the silver-furred beast at the head of the line for his flight. Oh no. Not _his_ flight. Just what she was thinking, trying to bring it into the passenger area, he couldn't be sure. There were designated places in the cargo hold for animals, regardless of how large a crate it would have needed to be held in. Acnologia's steps never faltered as he came closer, but he sharpened his ears to her conversation alone. This, he had to hear.

"Ma'am, you can't bring a pet into the passenger area," said the woman who was supposed to check everyone's tickets.

"You don't understand," the blonde woman said as her hand tightened on the leash holding the dog at her side. It sat patiently beside her with its head easily reaching up to her chest, then slowly leaned against her. "He's not just a pet. This is an Emotional Support Animal."

"Do you have the proper documentation?"

She nodded and pulled several papers from the inner pocket of her beige peacoat as Acnologia came to stand behind her. The flight attendant checked over the papers, looking from them to the woman, then to the dog. The blonde woman retrieved a pair of tickets from her coat and handed them over as well. "I paid for two seats," she said. "I know some airlines say the animal has to sit on the owner's lap or on the floor, but he's too big for me to hold in my lap for a five hour flight."

"How much does he weigh?"

"Two hundred fifty pounds."

Acnologia really didn't doubt that the animal weighed that much. It didn't appear to be overweight though, just bulky and broadly built.

"Ma'am, I'll need to check with my supervisor."

"You're kidding me, right?" the blonde woman groaned.

"No, ma'am, I'm sorry. Could you please step off to the side here?" she asked, motioning away from the line. "I'll call up the supervisor in just a moment."

"So you're telling me that I have to wait here until you've handled everyone else, because you're too incompetent to see that this is a necessary accommodation for me to fly?"

"Please just wait here, ma'am." The woman put on a bright smile while looking at Acnologia. "How can I help you, sir?"

The blonde didn't leave the place she'd been standing, and he made no move to try and get her out of the way. "I believe you still have something to do," he said to the flight attendant. He fought back a grimace at the sudden flush on her cheeks and how she blinked rapidly just from the sound of his voice. He hated it when women reacted that way.

"Thank you," the blonde woman said over her shoulder. He saw the moment her shoulders squared, when her back straightened just a little to give her a more dominating presence. It was greatly diminished by the large dog sitting beside her, however. It wouldn't surprise him if she was able to ride the beast like a horse.

"Now listen here," she paused to read the attendant's name tag, "Judy. I've read through the airline's guidelines on what does and doesn't constitute an Emotional Support Animal, and what documentation I needed to provide you for my dog here to be able to fly with me in the cabin. In case you're not aware, I've given you a copy of my doctor's orders, as well all of Acnologia's updated shots."

Any amusement the famed Dragon Slayer may have been experiencing over this situation was doused in an instant when he heard the dog's name. Unless he'd misheard her, which he doubted, this woman had named her dog after him. Without even knowing just who he was, or what he was.

He hated the universe, sometimes.

"It's not required for him to wear a specially designed vest, but I have one in my carry-on if you feel like it's absolutely necessary," she continued. "So, how about you stop wasting my time and everyone else who's waiting to get back home sometime before the new year, and just let me and Acnologia on the plane already?"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down," the attendant said carefully.

"Oh, trust me," she said, her voice low and only slightly agitated, "This is me being calm. I'm much louder when I'm actually angry."

"If you could just wait to the side, my supervisor should be-"

"Considering you've yet to call this supervisor," Acnologia butted in, "I doubt they're on their way."

"Just let her on the plane already!" a young blue-haired man in his twenties groaned from somewhere behind Acnologia. "So what if she wants to bring the damn dog on?"

"Well, I'm allergic to dogs," muttered a prim-looking woman with wide sunglasses and a devilish, pointed chin.

"Well no one fucking asked you, Brenda!" the blonde woman in front of him turned and shouted. "I need him with me!"

"My name is Susan…"

Acnologia could only assume this was just the beginning of this woman becoming hysterical. And really, this wasn't what he wanted to be doing right then. What he wanted was to be back home, sitting in front of his fireplace with an old book. He wanted to be comfortable and able to relive the better times in his life - the days of death and destruction that he was honestly too tired to go out and partake in any longer.

"Ma'am, if you can't relax, I'll have security remove you and your dog from-"

"I can't fly without him," she said, turning back to the attendant. "I just can't, okay? I paid good money for these seats, because I knew it would be an issue to fly coach with him. Just… please…"

Acnologia's lip nearly curled in disgust when he smelled the acrid scent of salt welling in the air just in front of him. She was on the verge of tears. Just wonderful. But it wasn't his job to come to the rescue for anyone. He'd never been the sort of person who worried about others. He was no chivalrous knight, especially not now, in a time when even those were long dead.

Oh, how he missed the Rune Knights on occasions like these. They were rather fun to eat.

"Please," she said again, and he could hear her muscles tightening in a steady rhythm on the dog's leash. The dog leaned more heavily against her, nearly toppling her right then. "He's not a bad dog. He's an English Mastiff, for stars' sakes!"

 _Stars' sakes_ … that was a phrase he hadn't heard for centuries. But if nothing else had held his attention on this woman, that most certainly did.

"Just let us on, okay?"

"Fuckin' shit, man… The hell is takin' so long up there?" came the gruff voice that called to a distant memory of Acnologia's. He was tempted to turn and find out who the voice belonged to, but he ignored it.

Instead, he chose to close his eyes and count to thirty. Then forty. Anything to keep himself from simply letting out one well-aimed roar to decimate every human who was in the process of ruining his mood. Luckily for him, he supposed, the phone in his breast pocket started ringing. That gave him a wonderful distraction. Maybe he was a little too eager though while answering it with nothing more than a grunt.

" _Mister Draconis,"_ came the voice of his most recent personal assistant, Nadine. _"You asked me to inform you when I was able to get a contact number for the item you want to purchase."_

"Which one?" he asked.

" _The Heartfilia manuscripts, sir."_

Ah, the collection of novels - both published and unpublished - by Fairy Tail's very own Celestial mage. The only books that detailed just what life was like back when he was in his prime. The only ones that had his name in any sort of historical context.

He hadn't been able to read them back then, being stuck in his _cylch_ , but it was the only way for him to find out just what was believed about the war that ended Zeref. He was rather curious to see how his image had fared in that woman's literary clutches.

"I understand. Send it to me, and I'll contact them myself."

" _Sir, are you sure? I can-"_

"Nadine, don't make me repeat myself," he growled, which oddly drew the dog-Acnologia's attention to him. "I trust no one in dealing with these items, especially not you and your insipid prattling."

" _O-Of course, sir… My apologies."_ He waited while she gathered papers on the other end of the line, then memorized the phone number and name she gave him. _"Was there anything else-"_

"No, that's all. My flight should be landing in Seattle at ten tonight, so make sure a car is there and waiting for me." He hung up the phone without waiting for a response, then returned his attention to the flustered flight attendant who had let the blonde woman and her dog finally board the plane.

"You have my apologies for the delay," she said with a sad attempt at an enigmatic smile.

"You should apologize to that woman," he muttered while holding out his boarding pass. "Wasting her time and everyone else's because you're too lazy to read." She sputtered and handed his pass back to him, and Acnologia breezed past her into the long tube leading to the plane.

All he could hope was that the flight would be quick. Well, it would have been quicker if he'd flown himself, but it really wasn't safe for him to turn into a dragon in the modern age. The last thing he needed was for the military to start chasing him. That just sounded tedious.

* * *

Lucy let out a slow, steadying breath while leading Acnologia down the aisle to their seats. "That's a good boy," she whispered. They both knew it was more for her own comfort than for the dog, but that wasn't the point. She was just glad that she'd thought to pack some puppy pads to lay down in the handicap stall of the airport bathroom, so Acnologia could relieve himself before the flight. Granted, picking up the steaming pile of his shit and dumping it in the toilet hadn't been pleasant, but it was a necessary evil.

They finally reached their seats, and she motioned for him to sit on the floor while she reached into her carry-on for his blanket. He wasn't really one for shedding, but he did drool - her precious little (big) Mastiff, that he was - and she was courteous enough to think about trying to keep that from getting on the first class seats. Once the oversized pink fleece blanket was properly draped over his seat and hers, she patted the cushion and smiled as he slowly crawled up into it. And as soon as he was settled, she went about getting herself situated with her carry-on stowed in its proper compartment beneath the seats.

All she could hope was that the person who would be sitting across the aisle from her and Acnologia had no issues with dogs. She needed to sit by the aisle, and she knew that Acnologia preferred looking out the window while flying if he happened to stay awake through the flight. He wouldn't be an overbearing nuisance to whoever was sitting in the same row as them, at the other window seat.

By the time she sat down and started getting herself comfortable, someone had come to the seat across from her. She glanced over to see a tall, well-built man in a dark grey business suit setting a laptop bag under his seat. His long bluish-silver hair was pulled up into a high, thick ponytail that reached down to his hips, but she found the bright blue tattoos across his cheeks and one of his hands - the only skin of his that was visible - to be alluring. Breathtaking.

She couldn't stop staring at them, though. Even when he sat down and pulled out his cell phone to start typing out what she figured was a very important email before their flight took off. Even Acnologia seemed to be intrigued by him. She could only assume that was the case when the dog's giant head leaned over her shoulder and pressed against her cheek. The silver-haired man must have realized she was staring though, because he set his phone back in his pocket and slowly - oh so slowly - turned to look at her and Acnologia.

Lucy had never seen such vibrant green eyes in her entire life. Just the sight of them pulled her into his mysterious web. She could practically feel vast evergreen fields stretching out for miles and miles beyond her, just from his gaze alone. She hadn't a clue why she caught the faint scent of a forest and crisp morning air on her next inhale. Unless he had some seriously subtle cologne that she'd only just picked up on.

"Can I help you?" he drawled. She recognized that voice. He was the one who had been standing behind her in the ticket line.

Lucy's lips parted in surprise, but she did her level best to compose herself enough to speak. "I-I um… Thank you."

He blinked slowly, and she could feel her cheeks flaring out of sheer embarrassment. "For?"

"For not being a total jerk out there," she laughed. Mostly at herself. She knew it was silly to need something like an animal just to be able to fly, but she couldn't help it. "I'm surprised you didn't make more of a fuss over how long that took."

"It's of no consequence," he said. His voice rumbled with every syllable, and the sound travelled right down to her very soul. She couldn't be sure why he seemed familiar to her though. Surely Lucy would have remembered meeting someone like him.

"You don't mind that he's flying with me, do you?" she asked, wincing. "I know some people get pretty upset over it. But Acno's a good dog."

"If it is necessary for you to be properly accommodated on this flight, then I see no issue with it." Good lord, the way he talked was so… old school. He didn't really look old enough to have a stick up his ass about language, but there was something about it that made it seem almost natural for him to speak that way.

"Yeah," she chuckled, bringing a hand up to pat the side of Acno's head. He draped a large paw over her leg. "Well, if I wasn't so terrified of flying, he wouldn't be here."

"Ah," the silver-haired man nodded. "Anxiety?"

"Really really bad," she said. "My parents were killed in a plane crash years ago."

"I see."

"I barely made it out alive," she finished, giving his suddenly wide-eyed expression a lopsided grin. "Private plane. I still don't know how I made it at all, but I survived it with just a few bruises." And a large scar running down the length of her back, but she really didn't talk about that. "Well, and a broken leg. If it wasn't for Acnologia here, the rescue team wouldn't have found me at all. He was a stray though, and I ended up adopting him." She smiled as Acno's head pressed against her cheek harder than before. "My guardian angel."

"Then anxiety while flying would seem logical," the man replied.

"Just airplanes though," she said as other passengers began filling the cabin. "I'm fine on rollercoasters and stuff. I even tried parasailing this past summer, and I had no problem with it."

"Helicopters?" he asked with a smirk.

"Fine in those," she laughed. "But I hate how loud they are, so I steer clear of them."

Acno whined in her ear and she turned to look at him with her brows pinched. The moment she saw his bright blue eyes looking back at her, Lucy found herself laughing. "I haven't forgotten about you, Acno," she giggled. "Here, scoot back and we'll move the armrest. You can lay down and snuggle with me."

The silver-haired man watched as she and the dog got themselves situated, and after a few moments, she turned her attention back to him.

"I forgot to introduce myself," she laughed. "My name is Lucy."

He stared down at her outstretched hand for only a moment before placing his in her grasp for a firm handshake. "Acnologia."

Her honey eyes widened and she looked from him down to the dog, and back. "You mean, you have the same name… as my dog?"

"Apparently, I do," he said, his lips lifting in a self-assured smirk. "However, I believe I may have had the name first."

"What are the odds?" she laughed, and he watched as she rubbed the top of her dog's head affectionately. "No one I've ever met has even heard that name before."

"Well, it is rather old," he said.

"My mom used to tell me this really great bedtime story about someone named Acnologia," she said with a soft, reminiscent smile. "When I woke up in the hospital and I remembered seeing him, I don't know what it was, but I just felt like he was an Acnologia. Even though the guy in the story was a villain."

"And why would your dog be deserving of my fine name?" he asked. She could see the humor swimming in his eyes though. Even though he wasn't fully smiling, she saw that he did find the turn to their conversation rather funny.

"The Acnologia in that story was strong," she said. "I don't know, though. It was just something about my boy here. I looked at him and thought, 'This is what Acnologia would look like if he was a dog.' It probably just sounds silly."

"Well, as someone with the same name, I can tell you it most definitely does sound silly," Acnologia said. He paused and watched as her cheeks flushed a brighter pink than before. "However, I think this dog in particular is a fair representation of my name in canine form."

The fact that she could hear her dog snoring already only had Lucy laughing. Oddly enough, when Acnologia joined in on her laughter, her chest swelled with some foreign warmth at the rich, deep sound of his voice.

* * *

She was silent for the entirety of the flight. As soon as the plane started moving, Lucy had gone a deathly shade of white. The whole time it taxied down the runway, she'd white-knuckled her armrest and restlessly run her free hand over Acno's fur.

Acnologia was surprised by the way the dog acted though. Lucy's mounting tension was palpable, and yet the dog simply allowed her to do as she pleased. She pet him a little too rough on occasion, but he didn't react in the slightest. Acno's head lifted from her lap every once in a while and he buried his nose under her chin. She didn't even seem to notice as the dog crawled on top of her just a little more - or maybe she didn't care all that much, considering the circumstances - when the plane took off.

Acnologia had watched her carefully pace her breathing. She took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth with her eyes closed until they were high in the sky and the seatbelt lights had been turned off. Lucy didn't remove her seatbelt. For five whole hours, she didn't leave her seat for anything.

When the flight attendants brought the in-flight refreshments, Lucy turned everything down except for a small cup of water for herself and a bag of pretzels that she shared with her dog. Acnologia was tempted to ask her why she wasn't eating, but by the look on her face just from trying to eat three measly pretzels, he could only assume she'd felt queasy. The dog seemed to understand though, and helped her finish the bland snack with no issues whatsoever.

By the time they landed in Seattle, night had fallen, and Acnologia was sure the woman beside him was going to burst with all the tension she'd been holding onto. Several times during the flight, he'd noticed her burying her face in Acno's scruff with her arms wrapped around his thick neck. She was one unruly hiccup away from a full-blown panic attack the whole time they'd been in the air. That, in turn, had somehow made _him_ more tense.

Once the wheels touched down, he relaxed just as she did. She looked at him only once before getting off the plane, giving him a tremulous smile that nearly knocked Acnologia off his feet.

It wasn't until she smiled at him like that, just before walking away with her dog, that he really saw who she was. Maybe the years were finally starting to get to him, but he saw it only then. She had the same wide, expressive eyes, the same full face. That signature golden hair that he was sure was soft as gossamer. But the smile was identical, down to the barely there dimples in her cheeks, to all the women in her family. He'd been well-acquainted with only one generation of her family with Anna, and he'd nearly succeeded in killing another generation twice.

What was the name of that Fairy Tail girl he'd tried to kill before? Why did he want to say that he'd met that Celestial maiden's reincarnation? He wasn't above believing in things like that. He was sure that only a few decades earlier, he'd met with Natsu's reincarnation in Belgium. Acnologia had taken great pleasure in murdering the man with bright pink hair and a fiery disposition who had tried to mug him. Even if it wasn't Natsu Dragneel's reincarnation, Acnologia liked to believe it was, just so he could have some closure.

But this woman, she could really be a descendant of the Heartfilia line. She looked the part, at the very least. He finally found the will to collect his own belongings, but by the time Acnologia was off the plane, she was nowhere to be seen. Even down in the baggage claim area, he couldn't find her. There were too many sounds and scents around for him to pick her out from the crowd.

It was probably just as well, though. The last thing he needed was a painful reminder like her of the past he was desperately trying to collect in his library at home… while simultaneously trying to forget all about the world that had left him behind.

Nothing good would come of it.

With another heavy sigh, he waited for his baggage to arrive, watching bags of all shapes and sizes - and even a duct-taped trash bag and a guitar case move along the conveyor. Two large black suitcases came down the conveyor belt side by side, and he found himself frowning at them. One was his, that much he was sure of, but he only had the one bag. That had to mean someone else also had an identical suitcase to him that also had a first class priority tag on it.

With a put-upon roll of his eyes, he maneuvered through the crowd and pulled one of the black cases from the conveyor belt. Once he had it set on the ground and had checked the name tag, he wanted to bash his skull into the nearest metal pole.

A quick tap on his shoulder had Acnologia turning around in an instant, only to find a very familiar head of blonde hair and those bright honey eyes grinning up at him.

"Acnologia Draconis, I presume?" she asked, holding onto the handle of a black suitcase identical to the one he'd taken.

"The one and only," he said. And then he read the name tag again. "Lucy Heartfilia?"

"That would be me," she laughed.

She really was a Heartfilia. The contact information he'd been given by Nadine was all for naught, because the woman who had what he so desperately wished to collect was standing right in front of him, holding a leash for her massive silver English Mastiff in one hand, and the handle for his luggage in the other.

"I hope you won't find me presumptuous," he said carefully as they exchanged luggage, "But would you and my legacy here like to have a late dinner with me?"

She was obviously surprised by the invitation, and he could see her wariness creeping up and covering her like a thick cloak. Acno stepped between the two of them on instinct alone, based only on her reaction to Acnologia's question.

"Well, um…"

He couldn't help but smirk then. She was a smart woman to turn down an invitation to dinner from a man she hardly knew, but he refused to let this chance slip by him. Instead, Acnologia reached into a pocket in his coat and withdrew his business card case. He plucked one from inside and handed it to her. "Acnologia Draconis," he said as she cautiously took it from him. "I'm an antique collector. My assistant called me earlier with your contact information."

"You… want to buy my antiques?" Lucy asked with a raised brow.

"The manuscripts written by your ancestor," he said.

"Lucy Heartfilia," she said slowly. "Why are you so interested in her fairy tales?"

"They're much more than fairy tales, I assure you," he chuckled. What was meant to be a simple joke that only he knew the true meaning of, seemed to spark some sudden interest in her.

"They're not for sale," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said they're not for sale," she said again. "My great-great-great something or other grandmother cared about her work, and it's been passed down in our family for years. I'm not going to just sell it to someone I hardly know all so it can be added to a collection of dusty tomes."

"That's not-"

"No," she said. "I won't sell them to you. Not unless you can prove to me that you're deserving of them."

"And… how would I go about doing that?"

"Have you ever read any of her work?"

"No, but I've been wanting to for a very long time."

"Do you know any of her stories?"

He wanted so badly to tell this woman that he'd _lived_ some of those stories, but that would make him sound like a lunatic. The last thing Acnologia needed was for her to think he was completely insane. He'd gotten his sanity back when he'd emerged from his _cylch_ , after all. "Yes," he said. "I think I may."

Lucy looked smug then while crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a hip out to one side. His eyes followed her hands though, and he found himself drawn into the dark mark on the back of her right hand. He didn't think as he reached forward and pulled her hand closer, not even when she squeaked and tried to keep the appendage away from him.

"What is this?" he asked slowly, staring down at the dark red mark on her flesh.

"A birthmark," she said with a scowl. She tried to pull her hand away again, but he held fast. "It's just a weird port wine stain…"

A soft, reminiscent smile tugged at his lips while his thumb brushed over the birdlike mark. While Acnologia may have tried to murder all the mages in Fairy Tail, his true goal had only been the Dragon Slayers. Now that he'd been living among humans for so long, now that magic was all but nonexistent aside from his own, he always found it a bit nostalgic when he encountered something from his past.

The last thing he'd expected to find in this young woman was such a deep connection to his old life though. He definitely hadn't been prepared to see a Fairy Tail guild mark on her hand. If memory served correctly, the Celestial maiden had a bright pink guild mark in this exact same spot.

"You've been marked by the fairies," he said softly. She went deathly still and he looked into her eyes again. "Your ancestor had a mark on her hand, just like this one. The mark of the Fairy Tail guild."

"How would you know something like that?" she asked with a tremble in her voice.

"I'm not an ordinary antique collector," he chuckled. "But you asked if I knew any of her stories. I believe she may have written one about a place called Tenrou Island." He heard her heart as it began pounding in her chest, pumping blood for a fight or flight. "Would you like me to tell it to you, as I heard it? The perspective was not her own, but the event is the same."

Lucy licked her dry lips and nodded, seemingly unaware of the fact that they were still standing in front of the baggage claim belt, or that other passengers from their flight were starting to get annoyed by the pair not moving now that they'd gotten their bags.

"The Fairy Tail guild had gathered at Tenrou Island to test the mettle of their mages in the year 784," he began. He'd gathered that much information after they returned from Tenrou seven years later, when he took the time to read a Sorcerer's Weekly from someone's trash to see what the most recent news was. "A dark guild, Grimoire Heart, appeared on the island and nearly killed them all, but the Fairies were victorious. I believe they'd thought all would be well after that moment, but they hadn't expected a dragon to appear. Whether your ancestor was aware of it or not, that dragon appeared for one reason only, to kill the black mage, Zeref, who had been living on the island in secrecy. The dragon felt his magic after so many years, and wished to kill him."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she recognized at least a small part of what he was telling her. She was intrigued by it all, and that made Acnologia's other hand lift to grasp hers.

"The dragon didn't care for the lives of humans, so he paid no attention to the Fairies. They fought him, though, and Zeref disappeared while the dragon held their giant guild master, Makarov, back.

"Enraged, the dragon took to the air and resolved to slaughter the mages who had stood in his way. He prepared his roar, and the Fairies gathered in a circle, holding hands. A blinding white light engulfed the island just as his roar was unleashed, and they vanished with the casting of _Fairy Sphere_. The world thought them to be dead, but seven years passed and the island reappeared in the year 791."

"How… how do you know that story?" she asked. She was breathless, but he couldn't blame her. Not when she spoke again. "That story was never published… It was only in her diary."

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you," he said.

"I have to know," she replied, suddenly tightening her hold on his hands and not noticing that one of them was metal. "My mother told me when I was younger, that it was said Lucy never published that story because she didn't want anyone to know the truth of how she and her guild mates had survived the dragon's attack."

"And you believe your ancestor truly faced a dragon?" Acnologia's brow rose in feigned disbelief.

A rueful smile graced her plump lips at that. "Well, I've always believed in those stories," she said, albeit a little sheepishly. "My mother always said they were just really well-told stories. My grandmother thought that Lucy was insane and writing everything from an asylum. But my aunt, Anna, she said that Lucy was just a really smart writer, and that she would have published her diaries as well - that she was just using a different format for a book."

"But you didn't agree with any of them," he said slowly.

"No," she laughed. "I think she really did have magic, and that she really went on all those adventures she wrote about. God, you probably think I sound crazy."

She finally did pull her hands away from his hold then, but he allowed her the small bit of distance while he searched her eyes for something he couldn't name. Maybe he wanted the truth. The Anna he'd known had always been a horrible liar. Her heart had been too pure when they were younger, and she couldn't have told him a lie if her life depended on it. That had definitely changed as she grew though, sending those Dragon Slayer children to the future the way she had.

"I do not," he said. "In fact, I think you are the most sane person I've met in a very long time." The dog still standing mostly between them huffed out a half-bark, and he looked down into its tired blue eyes. "My offer still stands, but if you would like to take some time to consider it, I understand."

As Acnologia turned to walk away, he heard her breath hitch and she called out to him. "Wait, you never told me how you knew the story!"

He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "I would suggest reading her stories again," he said. "If she's a worthy author, she'll have written the truth in there."

"Which stories?!" she shouted as he walked on.

"That's up to you to figure out," he called back. He heard her groan while she grabbed her bag and started leading Acno away from the baggage area. What he wouldn't give to find out more about this Heartfilia descendant who had cropped up in his life so suddenly. It was one of the reasons he'd given her that small kernel of information. If she put the pieces together that he was, in fact, the same Acnologia that her ancestor had written about, and if she believed it to be true, then maybe there would be some intriguing conversation for him in the near future.

If she didn't truly believe, then he would probably never hear from her again. He would need to try a different tactic to attain those manuscripts. But he could be patient. If he had to simply wait another generation to try again, then so be it.

Acnologia refused to let those manuscripts go. Not when he already had so many other items - like that dreaded white-scaled scarf - from that time so long ago.

* * *

She read every story that had been written by Lucy Heartfilia, her namesake. She read through the diaries, and even the odd scraps of paper that were tucked inside old books passed down through the generations. It took Lucy two months to get through all of it, and another month after that to let herself actually believe what Acnologia Draconis had told her with his subtle hints.

It was the day that she'd stumbled on a chest in the attic full of artwork that was so lifelike it almost looked like it was a photograph, that Lucy found she couldn't deny the truth any longer. In the first picture she found, stood an exact likeness of herself in a white tube top and grey mini-skirt, with her arm around a pink-haired man's shoulders. A large building loomed behind them with the words _Fairy Tail_ arching over the large doors. And there, on the pictured Lucy's hand was a bright pink mark. The Fairy Tail guild mark. The same one that Lucy had been born with.

She spent the entire day looking through the rest of the pictures in that chest, comparing them with Lucy Heartfilia's diary entries, and the letters to her deceased parents that had been recovered two years ago by her great aunt Ethel. For the first time in her life, Lucy was able to see the people that her ancestor had written about. She saw Natsu, the man Lucy had eventually married (only after she'd proposed to him herself because, as she'd written, _"Natsu's just too dense to even think of marrying me unless I bring it up…"_ ) and she saw Erza and Gray and Wendy. She saw Happy and Carla and Pantherlily, the fabled Exceeds that were still popular characters in children's movies.

She saw Gajeel, Laxus, Rogue and Sting, the other Dragon Slayers that Lucy had written about. The only one not pictured was a man named Cobra, but he was a criminal that had apparently worked the rest of his life to atone for the sins he'd committed while in a dark guild; Lucy was happy to know that he'd found love with a woman from Fairy Tail named Kinana, and that they had three children together.

The most interesting, and possibly terrifying, picture was the one of a black dragon flying through the sky, roaring out a large ball of white and blue light. Just from looking at it, she knew this was the Apocalypse Dragon she'd read about. The one named Acnologia who had slaughtered all the dragons centuries before these diaries had been written. But there was a detail that Lucy Heartfilia hadn't written about in any of her diaries, and not in the books she'd published.

She'd mentioned that in the final war against Zeref, Acnologia had taken on a human form again. But she'd never once mentioned the bright blue markings on this dragon. She'd written that it was obvious the man that Natsu and the other Dragon Slayers killed was Acnologia, by his markings alone.

But they were blue. Just like the tattoos she'd seen on Acnologia Draconis' hand and face.

When Lucy thought about it, she didn't remember if he had two hands though. From what she'd read, the Apocalypse Dragon had lost one of his arms while fighting Igneel during the war with the demon guild, Tartaros. If this was the same man, shouldn't his arm have still been missing?

She sat back on her heels, holding the picture of Acnologia in her hands, and looked off to the side to her great oaf of a dog who was sleeping nearby.

She wasn't entirely sure what had made her do it. Maybe it was that she wanted answers. She'd always believed in the stories that Lucy Heartfilia had written. It was the romantic in her that felt there was more truth to them than anyone else let on. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone and the business card she'd been given three months prior in the middle of the airport.

What if he really was this famed dragon killer? He didn't seem so evil when she'd sat beside him on the plane. That didn't stop her from dialing his number and putting the phone to her ear while she gazed at the picture once again. The dragon as it had been painted was beautiful. Deadly, but beautiful.

What Lucy wouldn't give to be able to see it in real life…

" _Acnologia, speaking."_

"'His scales were black'," she quoted from memory of Lucy Heartfilia's diary. "'So black that I was sure the stars themselves would disappear if they came close enough to him. When we learned more about him from Zirconis' spirit beneath the castle in Crocus, I knew that we were lucky to have survived the attack of the Black Dragon on Tenrou Island. He was a murderer, a monster who sacrificed his humanity to spill the blood of the ones who had given him power.'"

" _So you read them."_

"I did."

" _And what is it that you believe?"_

She bit her lips and canted her head to one side to hold her phone against her shoulder. Her fingers feathered over the image of the black dragon on the page. "I still believe she's telling the truth," Lucy said. "And you're him… Aren't you…"

" _Who am I?"_ he asked.

She knew that there was an answer he must be searching for. He must have wanted confirmation that she knew just who he was. That he was really the dragon her ancestor had written about, the one who had nearly killed her and all of her guildmates centuries before. There was one name that Lucy Heartfilia had written about only one time in her diary, one name that Zirconis had mentioned. It was the name of a festival, a bloody massacre that Acnologia himself had wrought. A title that he'd claimed with the blood on his hands and claws.

With a shuddering inhale, her eyes closed and she whispered into the phone, "You're the Dragon King."

* * *

It wasn't until Acnologia was sitting in her home library, poring over the scrolls and books that she'd pulled out for him, that Lucy realized she should have been a little more wary of him. He'd accepted her invitation to come see the manuscripts as soon as she'd asked. She didn't know if he had any other pressing matters to attend to that day - she wasn't really sure what he did with his time, to be honest - but clearly this was much more important to him.

He'd been surprised by her address, and he'd told her as much once he'd arrived and stepped out of his sleek silver sports car. It was the last part of the Heartfilia Konzern still standing, the main mansion that Layla Heartfilia had raised her daughter in in the late 700s. Everything else was surrounded by woods those days though. Lucy rather preferred the solitude.

It was surprising that Acnologia even knew that this had once been her late ancestor's home. Then again, he seemed to know quite a bit about her ancestry.

"Thank you," he said after several minutes in silence. "For allowing me to come and read this."

"Well, it's the least I could do," she said, sipping at her tea. "Did you want to see the pictures too?"

"Pictures?" he asked, his eyes rounding in awe as she gestured to the chest off to her left. "How would anyone have had pictures in that time? Paintings, possibly, but…"

"Well, they are paintings," Lucy laughed. She set down her teacup and opened the chest, then pulled out several pages. "She wrote that there was a man in her guild named Reedus. His magic had something to do with bringing whatever he painted to life. Literally."

Acnologia's fingers brushed over hers while he carefully took the paintings from her grasp.

"I guess he liked painting the people in the guild," she continued. "There are lots of pictures of everyone there."

"That does make sense. My understanding was that the Fairy Tail guild prided itself on _nakama_."

"Nakama?" she asked, frowning.

"Ah, that is a word that's fallen out of use nowadays, isn't it… It means camaraderie," he amended. "They were borne from all walks of life, but they came together in that guild and became a family. Their bonds were what held them together, regardless of the trials they faced."

"And you really tried to kill them?" she whispered.

"I did," he nodded, turning to the next page. "The story I told you of Tenrou, was my own. I only pursued them later because I realized there were Dragon Slayers in that guild. That only happened after Igneel and the others appeared while Fairy Tail battled with Tartaros."

"Reedus painted you as well," she said. His eyes turned toward her, full of intrigue while she withdrew another page from the chest. "Would you like to see?"

"Yes," he replied. He didn't touch the page when she showed him, though. Acnologia simply stared at the image, his emerald gaze traveling over every bit of ink, soaking it in and memorizing it. "I've… never seen myself like this…"

"You're a beautiful dragon." She was just as surprised by her words as he was, and Lucy found her cheeks flaming. "I-I mean, well… Aside from being scary, and all that…"

Acnologia chuckled and brought his metallic hand up to rest on her wrist. That was when she noticed that it really was a prosthetic. And not one that she could imagine someone in this century creating. It reminded her of the stories Lucy Heartfilia had written about the Crash mage named Gildarts Clive, a man who had been the first to face off against Acnologia and live to tell the tale.

"I'm not really all that terrifying these days," he said. She could swear she heard just the smallest bit of sadness in his voice.

"Then what has the famous Dragon King been doing with his life?"

"Collecting my past," he said. "I never want to forget it. Or what the world was like in the time I truly belong in."

"Even though you tried to destroy it all?"

"I was young and stupid then," he said. She could see his sadness leaking from his voice and up into his eyes. "It started as revenge for what the dragons did to my home and family. I became power-hungry. It wasn't until I had been dormant for centuries and woke to find that magic was nothing more than a myth that I realized the mistake I'd made."

"You wished for a world where no one was strong enough to stop you, and you got it…"

"And it is more lonely than spending my days in a cave, plotting my revenge." She could understand that, in a sense. She'd never felt more lonely than the days where she daydreamed of living in the world her ancestor wrote about, and being the only one who truly believed in it all. Her great aunt Ethel called her a Dreamer for that very reason.

Lucy was always looked at as the girl with her head up in the clouds, instead of down on earth where it belonged. Except, no one really tried to stop her either. She'd heard her Aunt Anna saying that it was best to leave her to her dreams when she'd lost her parents in that plane crash. That was why they'd allowed her to keep Acno in the first place. The dog that had saved her life became the biggest part of her life.

But now, she had _his_ namesake sitting in her home. A mage. A real life Dragon Slayer.

And here she was, talking about the past he'd tried to destroy and the life he'd left behind.

"Could you show me?" she asked timidly. "Your magic… Could I see it?"

He smiled at her then, and turned her right hand so the palm faced upward. He cupped his hands around it and she gasped at the foreign, tingling sensation dancing across her flesh. A soft white-blue light spilled from the space between their hands, and then he opened them to reveal a glowing, twinkling cluster of starlight.

"Wh-What is this?"

"The basis of my magic," he said. "No one ever knew what element was mine to command. I made sure they were none the wiser until the very end. Even then, I doubt anyone solved that riddle."

"Dragon Slayers have different elements," she nodded. She remembered that Natsu, the man who'd married her ancestor, was a Fire Dragon Slayer. There had also been Lightning and Iron and Wind Dragon Slayers in Fairy Tail. "What's yours?"

"That's quite the personal question." When she sputtered and tried to apologize, Acnologia couldn't help but laugh. "When I learned this magic, it was called _Sêr_. My element is from the stars."

"You're kidding me, right?"

He shook his head, gesturing to their still joined hands. "There was a saying, long before Fairy Tail existed. The dragon who taught me this magic had said it once. I used to say it to remind myself of the reason for slaughtering all those dragons."

"What is it?"

" _Ni all sêr ddisgleirio heb dywyllwch_. The stars can't shine without darkness." She watched as his smile shifted once again to something that was tinged with regret. "I believed for so long that my actions gave me more power. And they did. I was able to become a dragon because of what I'd done. The only problem was that it robbed me of a true life."

Lucy smiled down at the little motes of light twinkling above her hand. "I wonder what she would have said, if she knew how close your magic was to her own."

"You know about her magic?"

"A little," Lucy chuckled. "I have the keys she carried around with her."

Acnologia shot forward his his seat, the magic in the air dying down in an instant as he grabbed her shoulders. "You have her gate keys?" he asked. "Truly, you have the twelve gold keys?"

"W-Well, um… Yeah," she said slowly. "And a bunch of silver keys too. They're just heirlooms now though. No one in my family has been able to use them, and…"

"And?"

She sighed and glanced off to the side, hunching her shoulders just slightly. "No one believes it's even possible. The only reason we've kept them all this time is because they were the inspiration behind her tales."

"Will you show them to me?"

She wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but the longer she looked into Acnologia's eyes, the more at ease she felt. She was positive that no one before her had had this feeling while looking at him. For so long, he'd been alone. He'd said as much himself already. But the cobwebs of a lacking existence had cleared from his mind, and he suddenly seemed much more alive than she'd seen him before.

So, she took a chance. It was one risk after another for her of late, but Acnologia just brought that out in her without her even realizing it until it was too late. She stood and grabbed his hand, then led him away from the library. They passed a maid on their way down the hall, and Lucy simply waved her away with a wide grin.

Only Acnologia was able to hear the woman muttering that it was about time the young heiress found a man, even if she did seem to be just a little forward in claiming him.

Lucy stopped outside of her bedroom and stood stone still with her hand on the doorknob. She could do this. She could show him the gate keys. He truly was Acnologia, the one who'd tried to kill her ancestor, but there was something about him that called to her. It made her want to trust him with this as well.

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded, and slowly peeked up at him. "Promise me that I can trust you with this," she whispered. "I… I've never showed them to anyone. And everyone tells me they're special…"

"Only if you will promise to keep my true identity a secret," he said with a small turn to his lips. Maybe he was just teasing her, but Lucy nodded all the same.

She turned and shook his hand, her back straightening as she said, "I promise, your secret's safe with me, Acnologia."

"Then I swear that you can trust me," he replied.

She let out a long sigh and led him into her bedroom. He waited in the middle of the room while she opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out a heavy tome. She flipped open the cover to reveal an open space inside it, holding an old leather pouch and a black cylinder with golden ends and a small star-shaped pendant attached to one end by a cord.

Lucy carried the book over to him, watching as he carefully reached inside for the pouch. "The original pouch was destroyed a long time ago," she said. "She wrote in her diary that Natsu accidentally set it on fire after they were married, and she never got around to getting a new one made with the guild's mark on it."

Slowly, he opened the flap and let the gold and silver keys fall into his outstretched hand. His fingers brushed over each one reverently, almost as though he'd been reunited with old friends.

Lucy saw one key in particular and smiled. "She went on an adventure after the war," she said while touching the golden key. "It took her a long time to find Aquarius' key again, but she managed to be reunited with the spirit."

"You sound like you've memorized her life story," he said.

Lucy looked up into his eyes, smiling all the while. "I think my favorite part of reading through everything these past few months was learning about her magic. She wrote about those spirits like they were her best friends."

"In my youth, that was the relationship that Celestial mages had with the spirits they were contracted with," he said. "I came to find out later on that she was one of only a few who held that same standard in her time."

It was so strange for her, hearing about her ancestor this way. Sometimes, she felt as though she was reliving parts of her own life while reading Lucy Heartfilia's diaries. She could hear Natsu yelling, _"I'm all fired up!"_ in the distance. She could feel the chill from Gray's Ice Make magic, or hear the air splitting from Erza's dozens of swords. But that was silly, and Lucy knew it.

"Sometimes, I wish I had magic," she said, looking back down at the keys. "I wish I could meet them…"

"Maybe you can," he said. She jolted in surprise when he placed the keys in her hand, closing her fingers over them. Acnologia took the book from her and set it on her bed, then pulled the cylinder from inside. "I believe you should hold onto this as well."

Lucy pushed the keyring back into the pouch and attached it to her belt, then took the cylinder from him and just held it. She didn't know how to put it on, or what it really was in the first place, so holding it would have to do.

"You're not… making fun of me, are you?" she asked warily while looking down at herself. His sudden, low laughter had her head shooting up and a glare narrowing her eyes.

"No, I would not tease you over something like this," he chuckled. "I am rather excited to find out if you're able to do this. But come… It would be best if I explain to you what is required of you first."

Excitement bubbled in her chest as he took her hand in his metal one and led her back down the halls to the library. A large part of her felt that nothing would come of this, but she had hope. Maybe there was more to this meeting with Acnologia than either of them could have guessed before. She'd learned that magic and the fairy tales she'd grown up hearing were real. And maybe, just maybe, he could show her a world she'd only ever dreamt of before.

* * *

He watched Lucy where she sat cross-legged in the grass beside Lucy Heartfilia's grave, her fingers running delicately over the twenty keys her ancestor had collected in her lifetime. She'd told him that the last of the Zodiac keys had been passed to Lucy Heartifilia after Yukino Aguria died of complications during childbirth; the other Celestial mage's children hadn't possessed any magical affinity whatsoever, and her older sister refused to take the keys for herself.

"Tell me the names of the Zodiac," he said softly. "And show me which key is which." As she went about listing them off, singling out each golden key and running the pad of her thumb over it, he thought back to seven months prior when he'd first come to visit with her.

For the past seven months, they'd been working nearly every day to hone her ability to feel the strong magical lineage she'd been gifted with. He'd taken a liking to tracing genealogy in recent years, so once he'd learned who her parents were, and their parents before them, he'd taken the time to trace her own family history back to the first Lucy Heartfilia, wife of Natsu Dragneel, the brother of the great Black Wizard, Zeref Dragneel. This woman sitting before him had vast amounts of magical abilities in her family throughout the generations.

In every generation, at least one male who descended from a Dragon Slayer in the 700s married into the family.

Acnologia was left wondering if there was something about Heartfilia women that drew Dragon Slayers to them. He'd felt a pull toward Anna so many years ago, but her betrayal and his thirst for power had stopped him from every making a move in her direction.

"... And Capricorn the Goat," she finished.

"Good," he said, circling around her. "Now clear your mind and look up to the sky. The night is clear, so you can connect with the stars. Take some time to reconnect with them. Find the pull of magic in your veins that comes from your bloodline."

So long ago, he would have killed her without a care. The thought had crossed his mind only once since she'd invited him over to her home that first day. But she was a diligent student, so eager to learn from him. And Acnologia hadn't realized just how much he wished there was someone else who knew something of the world he'd come from.

Lucy was his only link to the past he'd tried to foolishly to destroy. While he might not have been a part of it the way Lucy Heartfilia had been, he was still a part of history that was forgotten. Except by her.

How odd it was to be standing here, months after happening upon her in that airport, teaching her how to use magic.

She let out a soft gasp, and his attention was drawn back to her closed eyes and soft smile. She had to have felt it, that first spark of magic that he was positive would grow with practice. Acnologia had no books on Celestial magic - they had been destroyed centuries ago while he was still in stasis - so he could only guess at what was required of her to be able to summon a spirit. If he taught her the same way he'd learned to channel his own magic, however, that could be a step in the right direction. And that was what he'd done.

Slowly, he knelt behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Stand and find the key that calls to you," he said. "You know what to do."

She'd tried so many times before to summon a key, even though he'd told her that she wasn't ready yet. Only once before had anything come of it, the barest sparkle of energy on her fingertips, before she fell unconscious and toppled to the ground. They'd decided it would be best if she didn't make anymore attempts inside the library when she woke up with a bleeding forehead from the marble floor.

He helped Lucy stand, then took a step back and watched her legs fall into the stance that he vaguely remembered her ancestor using. She singled out a key and thrust it into the air in front of her, calling out an incantation they'd found in a little spiral notebook that had the shorthand details of Lucy Heartfilia's contracts with her spirits.

"I am linked to the path to the world of Celestial Spirits, now!" she called out. He could see her body working on instinct alone as she swiped the key across the space in front of her, then sliced it down through the air. "Oh spirit, answer my call and pass through the gate! Open, Gate of the Lion, Leo!"

A bright golden light filled the air in front of them, accompanied by a loud clock chiming to announce the arrival of a Celestial spirit. The light didn't dim, though, and instead grew brighter until he and Lucy were both squinting from its intensity. When they could hardly take much more, the light burst into millions of sparkling motes that twinkled down to the grass and finally disappeared.

Lucy's eyes cracked open to see if she'd actually succeeded, and Acnologia watched her instead of the spirit in front of them. Her eyes went wide while looking at the man from head to toe. His wild ginger mane of hair, his sunglasses and debonaire smile, and all along the finely tailored suit he wore.

"Y-You… You're just like she described," she whispered. Acnologia could smell her tears, and while he would have done nothing to ease her when they'd first started working together, he'd grown in the last seven months. He'd begun to care for her in ways he didn't want to put into words. So he simply set a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, and her own instantly covered it.

"Hello again, Princess," Leo said, bowing low at the waist. "I've missed you."

Her grip on Acnologia's hand tightened when he tried to pull away from her. He knew this was supposed to be a sacred, personal moment between the summoner and the spirit. This was when she should be making a contract with Leo the Lion. No one else should be present for it, but he could feel her shaking, trembling where she stood in front of him.

If he hadn't come to know her so well, Acnologia probably would have brushed it off. But he did know Lucy, and he knew that she was starting to feel overwhelmed.

She'd confided in him two weeks earlier that she was scared of doing this. It was her dream to be able to summon a spirit, to actually have magic like the first Lucy Heartfilia. But even though she'd dreamt of this day coming, and even though she'd seen bits of Acnologia's own magic from time to time, this was the moment where it all finally happened. This was when it became irrevocably real for her.

"Breathe, Lucy," he whispered into her hair. "It's alright."

"It's really him," she whimpered. He knew before it happened that her legs would give out, based only on how they shook while holding her weight. Acnologia easily caught her and gently lowered her to the ground, kneeling behind the suddenly sobbing blonde.

"Princess?" Leo's brows furrowed as he rushed forward. "What happened? What's the matter?"

"L-Leo," she sobbed. "I'm n-not…"

He paused just before reaching out for her, and Acnologia saw the moment he realized just who this was. It wasn't the Celestial mage he remembered, the one he'd sworn his entire existence to protect. They'd learned from her diaries that she only ever called him Loke, because she'd met him during his exile while he pretended to be a human mage in Fairy Tail. Leo must have realized that this wasn't the woman he knew, based on what she'd called him.

"What's your name?" Leo asked softly.

She couldn't speak properly though. She was too caught up in her own emotions. Acnologia didn't know much about the sort of woman the first Lucy was, so he didn't know if she cried this much. But his Lucy did. She cried when she was happy, and especially when she was sad. When she was frustrated and when her anxiety got the best of her. The only time she didn't cry was when she was angry; those times, she screeched at decibels no human should be able to reach.

"Her name is Lucy Heartfilia," he said for her, finally drawing the spirit's attention to him. "The second."

"Acnologia," Leo growled. His muscles tensed, ready to protect his new master from the evil mage he remembered, but Acnologia simply shook his head. "Get away from her."

"I'm not the same man you remember, Leo. It's been several centuries, you know."

"How are you even still alive?"

That was something he refused to divulge. There was no way he would tell anyone, save the woman in his arms, that along with gaining the body of a dragon from the overuse of his magic, he'd also gained their lifespan. He trusted Lucy, to a point, but that didn't extend to her spirits. Not until they'd proven themselves to be trustworthy in his eyes. Instead Acnologia pressed his lips to Lucy's ear and whispered, "You may not have much time with him for your first summon, Lucy. If you want to make a contract, you should do it now."

She nodded and tried her level best to compose herself, and just when he would have let her go so she could have some time with Leo, she held fast. "Don't leave me."

"Never," he said, getting into a slightly more comfortable position behind her.

"There's no need to make a contract with me," Leo said, smiling gently at her. He finally reached out to grasp her hands, and his smile only grew when he saw the red birthmark on her right hand. "I swore to only serve my princess, and by extension, her family. I'm already bound to you, Lucy. You can call on me at any time."

"I-I can?"

"Of course," he laughed. "It won't take too much of your magic to summon me, either. I can feel her magic in you, and the bond I shared with her is… it's almost like she's right here with us right now." He gently squeezed her hands when she shrunk in on herself just slightly. "Besides, I'm the leader of the Zodiac. Now that you've summoned me, I can open my gate on my own again."

"I would suggest being careful of when you do that," Acnologia said. "This time has no magic, save mine and now hers."

"Really?"

"Truly," Acnologia nodded.

"I might have to open my gate again later on to find out what I've missed," Leo muttered. He turned his attention to Lucy and gently cupped her cheeks, then leaned forward and pressed his lips for her forehead. "Thank you for summoning me, Lucy. I hope we can be great friends, just like I was with my princess."

"M-Me too," she whimpered.

"Don't cry," he chuckled. "You Heartfilia women always break my heart when you cry."

Of course, that only made her cry harder. Acnologia knew there was no stopping it though. She needed to just cry it out on her own time. His grip on her loosened when she lunged forward to hug Leo, and his gaze met with the spirit's over her head. "She's the only one who's believed in the first Lucy's stories," he said softly. "Your appearance has just made her dream come true, Leo."

He could swear the spirit who was ages older than even himself teared up at hearing those words, but Acnologia simply ignored it. Instead, he focused on the silver dog plodding across the grass to come and sit beside them. Acno nudged his nose beneath Acnologia's hand, and he sighed heavily while giving in and petting the ridiculous beast.

* * *

Acnologia set down the book he'd been reading, Lucy Heartfilia's final work that had been published when she was nearly ninety years old. He looked over to where Lucy was lying beside him in her bed, reading what he was sure was a trashy romance novel that her ancestor's friend Erza had loved (she'd recently found them in a crate on the other side of the mansion, and hadn't been able to put them down).

She'd grown so much in the use of her magic in the last five months, almost as though it had been lying dormant inside of her, just waiting to be unleashed. She still had a long way to go to be able to live up to her ancestor's level of power, but he knew that wasn't something she wanted.

There was no need for it in this modern age. She had no battles to fight, and no missions to take that would endanger her life. She was learning this simply as a way to connect with her own lineage, and to fulfill some deep-seated need within her soul that called for a bond with the Celestial spirits. He knew it was more than a hobby for her, but he was also more than pleased that she didn't have to face the horrors that the first Lucy had.

His Lucy was too gentle for those sorts of things. Oddly enough, it was the first thing about her that he'd fallen for.

"You're staring at me again," she giggled, looking up from her book. "Please don't tell me you're thinking that my shoulders look edible."

His lips twitched in a barely there smirk. She definitely wasn't wrong. The small slip of skin showing above the blanket did look rather delectable, but he'd already made sure they were both sated for the night. If he even considered trying to goad her into another round beneath the sheets, she wouldn't be able to move the next day.

"You may be onto something," he chuckled. "But I was thinking about something else."

"And what might that be, oh great Dragon King?" She laughed when he pounced on her, pushing the book to the floor while rolling her onto her back. Teasing or not, there was a primal part of him that positively purred when she called him that. The little minx knew it, too. Even while not wearing his prosthetic arm, he could still easily overpower her. Acnologia loved that she got a thrill from things like this.

His lips were far more tender than they might have been otherwise while pressing against hers in a gentle kiss. Her fingers danced along the blue markings covering his chest, down to his hips.

"I was thinking about something I read," he whispered.

"What's that?" she asked, smiling up at him. Stars, how he loved to see her smile just for him.

"'Do fairies have tails?'" he said, quoting the end of Lucy's final book. "'More than that, do fairies even exist? Nobody knows for sure, so this guild is like them. An eternal mystery. An eternal adventure.'"

"That's one of my favorite lines," she said. "She wrote that Makarov said it to every new member that joined."

"I think I might finally understand it," he whispered, and a rare smile graced his lips as well. "I think they really do exist."

"Do you now?" she giggled.

"And we should try to find them." She saw the suddenly excited gleam in his eyes, and he watched as it slowly appeared in her own. And then her smile became impossibly wide, and she nodded just once. They'd never done this before, but she knew just what he was suggesting. She knew that it meant he trusted her, and for her to accept would mean she trusted him as well.

"Take me on an adventure," she said, her voice soft and breathless.

Acnologia hopped off the bed and grabbed the clothes that had been tossed haphazardly to the floor hours earlier. He wasn't too concerned with his own, but he still bundled them up and shoved them into one of her large purses that she kept in the closet while Lucy got herself dressed. Once she was ready, he grabbed her hand and led her to the balcony door, uncaring of his nudity even as he opened it and several flurries drifted inside. "Grab another coat, Lucy. And gloves. And a scarf. Then meet me on the balcony."

"Should I leave a note?"

He grinned at her over his shoulder, and reveled in the way her heart rate skyrocketed. "We might be back by morning. Maybe."

She nodded and rushed off to add more layers to her clothing, and when she returned to the balcony, he was gone. There was a sudden rush of magical energy in the air that pressed down on her, a flash of light, and then a monstrous dragon stood before her on the lawn with its head easily towering over her. He was taller than she'd ever imagined he would be. The gleam on his scales might have seemed deadly to his enemies years ago, but to her they were beautiful. Breathtaking.

The first Lucy did have one thing right though, the scales that were black seemed as though they would swallow the stars themselves. But it was the mesmerizing swirls of bright blue that gave her the ability to draw in her next breath, even as he leaned down and pressed his snout against her body.

Acno plodded across the carpet and nudged the back of Lucy's legs while she gaped up at Acnologia's dragon form. She smiled down at the dog and patted his head. "Don't wait up for me, Acnologia," she whispered. "He'll take care of me."

The dog didn't whine, but simply licked her gloved hand and sat on the balcony, watching as she took slow steps toward the railing. She climbed onto the railing and a shrill, giggling squeal left her lips when Acnologia's deadly claws wrapped around her body. Acno watched as the pair flew off into the night sky, and didn't move when a soft golden light flashed behind him.

Leo stepped forward and removed his glasses, then cleaned them with a handkerchief while watching Acnologia disappear into the night sky. "The adventure of Fairy Tail lives on, huh?" he sighed.

Acno huffed out a half-bark and Leo chuckled.

"I never expected Acnologia to be the one to hold it all together. To think, he collected everything from the guild and held onto it all these years. And he even taught Lucy how to summon her spirits."

"Puu-pun," Acno muttered, looking up at Leo who grinned down at him and placed a gentle hand on his oversized head.

"I think you're right, Plue," he said, gazing back up to the stars. "Our princess is still with us, isn't she?"

 _ **.The End.**_


	14. Letters

**A/N: I'd like to wish everyone a (late) Happy Valentine's Day. I'm sure there are a lot of lovely, lovey-dovey stories out there for this holiday - what with it being all about romance and/or balls to the wall banging, depending on your preference and all - but I wanted to do something different this time around. Sorry for it being late, but I got the idea for this on the thirteenth, and it took some work to get it just right.**

 **Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this one-shot to some very specific readers who may feel just a little left out when it comes to Valentine's Day. My aro and ace readers, this one is for you. This holiday is just as much yours as anyone else's. I hope you guys enjoy a totally platonic, super long, Modern AU Valentine's story!**

* * *

 _ **Letters  
**_ _Midnight x Lucy  
_ _Rated T_

* * *

"Bill, bill, bill," Lucy sighed, flipping through her mail and shrugging off her coat. She dropped her keys into the little bowl just insider her apartment and kicked the front door closed. Nothing but bills. Was it really so hard to get some normal mail from a real person, who wasn't trying to take her damn money? Why did no one send mail anymore? Sure, she got her daily dose of thirty to forty emails that she had to check every single morning, and then the random notification on Facebook here and there from her friends.

But she just wanted something more.

Well, the bills could wait until later, because there was something she'd been wanting to do for months now, and Lucy was tired of sitting on her hands and not doing it. The new year was about to begin. She wanted a change, damnit.

So that was just what she was going to do.

Lucy sat down at her desk and wiggled her mouse to get rid of the precious little goldfish screensaver that she'd had since the nineties. The webpage was still open. She usually only refreshed it once a week, just to see what updates had been posted. But then she saw one page that stuck out to her, and she hadn't been able to leave it.

For two months, she'd stared at the page, memorized every word on it. And, of course, she'd looked at the one available picture of a man with two-toned white and black hair pulled into a high ponytail. He was twenty-three, just like her. But good lord, was he pretty. What had drawn her in first was the turn of his lips. He wasn't smiling in the picture, but the corners still lifted just a little bit, giving him the perfect shape for lipstick. He didn't wear any, of course, but she could picture him pulling off a stunning plum shade with his pale complexion.

Based on his profile, he was agnostic and had no listed sexual preference. Considering he could have chosen from bisexual, gay, lesbian, or straight, she didn't really blame him for not making the choice. But then there was the little bio that he'd written.

 _Hello to whoever's reading this. I don't really know what to say for something like this, but I've never been good with introductions in general. We can get the awkwardness out of the way now. I like art and reading. I hate poetry though; it makes my skin crawl. I have a close circle of friends that I've known since childhood, but no one else. I prefer to stick with the ones I know and trust. But it's been brought to my attention that talking with someone new might do me some good. I'm apparently brooding too much for my friend's sanity. So, if you'd like, drop me a line sometime._

Well, Lucy did want to drop him a line. He intrigued her. She wanted to know more about him, but it was daunting and so, so intimidating just _thinking_ about writing even one word to him.

But damnit, she was so tired of not having anyone to talk to. She was more than tired of dreading opening her mailbox down in the lobby. There was only so much garbage she could order online before she ventured into hoarder territory.

So that day, Lucy decided that she was going to just suck it up and write to him. She could introduce herself, ask him questions. She could get to know him. And maybe they could be great friends. Based on his profile, she was actually just a little hopeful that he wasn't interested in anything more than friendship. Because while she thought he was just too pretty for words, she didn't want him getting the wrong idea. She didn't want to date him.

Lucy just wanted a friend. She had plenty, so it wasn't that she was lacking really. But her friendships all felt a little superficial. She wanted to really get to know someone, and for them to know her. She wanted the kind of friend who would stick by her side for good, who she could turn to when it was just the worst day ever.

It was with that thought in mind that she pulled out her stationery and one of her nice pens, and started to write. She didn't let herself overthink what she was writing, and just let the words flow for a change. Instead of holding herself back, Lucy let it all out.

And by the time she was finished, it was a barely half a page. That was probably enough for a letter. Especially the first letter. She couldn't allow herself to consider the very real possibility that he might think she was insane for rambling on so long. Well, it seemed like she'd been rambling. Maybe half a page wasn't rambling. Maybe it wasn't enough.

Finally, she grabbed a light pink envelope and placed a stamp in the corner, adding a label with her return address to the top left corner and another one to the actual letter according to the site's guidelines. She copied the address exactly as it was written on the webpage, nibbling her lip the whole while.

 _Macbeth Leiriu #100975  
Aven State Prison (A154-66-2)  
PO Box 603  
Aven, WI 53005 USA_

She folded the letter and sealed it inside, then decided that she couldn't just leave it on her desk. It would drive her insane. Lucy stood from her desk and grabbed the letter, then marched right out her front door and down to the first floor of her apartment building, to the lobby. She didn't hesitate to shove it into the outgoing mail slot. It wasn't until the paper was finally out of her hands that she started to panic. But it was too late. That letter was going to Macbeth, and now all she could do was wait.

* * *

 _December 27th, 2014_

 _Dear Macbeth,  
I saw your profile on Write-A-Prisoner and decided, after a lot of deliberation, to write to you. My name is Lucy, and I'm twenty-three, and… this is starting to feel like a really awkward Plenty of Fish ad or something. I don't really know what to say in this, since I've never written to an inmate before. Well, I've never written a letter to someone I don't know before. But, your profile caught my eye, and I'd really like to see if we can be friends. So write me back whenever you'd like, alright? Here's my address, in case you don't get the envelope this comes in. And I made sure to send an envelope along with this, already stamped, so you don't need to worry about having to get any of that. I look forward to hearing from you._

 _-Sincerely, Lucy_

His crimson eyes were wide as he read the fine script on the page a second time, leaning back on his bunk with Erik already asleep on the bunk above him. They were some of the few people in this cell block with book lights, but that was because Erik was constantly reading. It just meant that Macbeth had been able to tuck the mail he hadn't expected ever getting into his pocket for later.

But now that he was looking at it, reading it for a third time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to respond to this. It had mostly been a dare from Erik in the first place, putting his information on that stupid site through some program offered for the inmates. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to write to some penpal. So, he decided to just leave it alone. Maybe he could pretend he hadn't gotten it. Or he could just sleep on it. That was probably for the best, anyway.

* * *

"Bill, bill, trash, more trash. Another bill," she sighed. A slightly crinkled envelope drew her attention, smaller than the standard size for envelopes, and light pink. "Ooh, not a bill!" Lucy tossed the rest of her mail onto the table as she read the return address written at the top. This was her envelope that she'd sent in Macbeth's letter, so he could write back to her. It had been over a month since she'd mailed it out to him, but she'd just assumed that there was a screening process for mail. She tore open the envelope while sitting on her plush reading chair in the corner of her living room, right beneath the window, and started to read.

 _February 3rd, 2015_

 _Lucy,  
Thanks for writing to me. I hadn't expected anyone to go through with this, to be perfectly honest. I'm kind of at a loss on what to talk about here, too. I've never done this before either. You already read on my profile that I like art and reading. I'm not one for conventional art, though. It's pretty unusual, I think. That sounds weird. Please tell me you're not into poetry. Well, I guess you could be, but I really don't like it. Like I said, it makes my skin crawl. This sounds like a strange request right off the bat, but my cellmate Erik says people normally send a picture with the first letter, so I know who I'm writing to. Make sure you put my name and Dept. of Corrections number on the back of it though, in case it gets separated from the letter at some point when they open my mail. I guess I'll end it here. Oh, double check the prison's guidelines for what you are and aren't allowed to send. They're really strict about that stuff._

 _-Macbeth_

She found herself smiling down at the letter written on paper from a yellow legal pad. It seemed they were both in the same boat, but if she was supposed to send him a picture, then she could do that. Well, she needed to find a picture that she actually wanted to send to him. Something that showed her, of course, but was also appropriate to send to an inmate. Nothing too sexual, and nothing violent - not that she made a habit of taking pictures with kittens held at gunpoint or anything.

Lucy went over to her desk and wiggled the mouse, then started browsing through the pictures saved on her external hard drive. It needed to be one that only had her in it. She wasn't going to send pictures of her friends to someone she didn't know.

She paused at the icon labeled _Rufus Shoot_. It was from early this past fall. He still had a semester left at the university, and he needed a model for his mini photo shoot. She couldn't remember what angle he'd been going for, but it had something to do with fall and dying leaves, and the color orange. Those were probably the most recent pictures of her anyway, and they were professional quality, so that was where she decided to look first.

It didn't take long to choose one. About half had her as the main focus, and some of them were very… artistic. Rufus had taken full advantage of her previous years in acrobatic dance classes by getting her bent into the strangest of shapes. But there was one that caught her eye, and she couldn't help but laugh while looking at it. This was the one. It had to be. It was her, in every imaginable way, and if Macbeth was going to get to know her, then this would be the best place to start.

She needed to double check the prison's guidelines on sending pictures to inmates - maybe she wasn't allowed to send photo paper? - but that could wait a few more minutes. All of a sudden, she had the urge to call up Rufus and see if he was busy now that he'd graduated. Maybe they could get some coffee and catch up.

* * *

 _February 6th, 2015_

 _Macbeth,  
You have no idea how glad I am that they allow you guys to get real photos. My printer sucks, and it wouldn't have done this picture justice. But, you wanted to know who you're writing to, and this is me. My friend was taking a photography class and needed someone to model for his project, so he roped me into it by bribing me with coffee and chocolate cake. As you can see, this is definitely one of the "blooper" shots from the ordeal. I promise you, I was __not_ _supposed to fall out of the tree. I think this looks much more majestic than it really was, because I landed flat on my ass and nearly got a rock lodged in there. I had a bruise the size of Kansas on my butt for weeks._

 _You said you like unconventional art. What kind of art is that? It's all pretty unconventional to me. I was an English major in college, so I look at most art like, "Ooh, pretty pictures." I focused on Creative Writing. And no, not poetry. I just don't get it, no matter what my essays about poetry might make you believe to the contrary. The bullshit was strong with me when it came to writing essays. So, no worries about me gushing over poetry. I focused on fantasy writing, especially novels._

 _If you draw or something like that, I'd love to see it. Well, if you wanted to send me a drawing. Tell me something about yourself. Like… What's your favorite color and season? And why?_

 _-Lucy_

Erik peeked down from his bunk when he heard paper shifting over itself, and he let out a low whistle at the picture in Macbeth's hand. "That's who's writing to you?" he asked. "Man, she's sexy as fuck."

Macbeth shrugged while taking in Lucy's fall from a tree branch. The flowing sky blue peasant dress with three-quarter length sleeves - clothing that was deemed "non-explicit" by the prison's guidelines because it wasn't baring her shoulders, and nearly reached down to her knees - clung to her legs and billowed in the air above her. Her arms had most likely been pinwheeling while she fell, based on how they were stretched out on either side of her. But even though he was sure that she'd been terrified from the fall, she was still smiling with her mouth wide open on what he could imagine was something between a laugh and a scream. Her peaches and cream complexion was complemented by her shining, golden hair that looked as though it reached down to her waist.

"Come on, Midnight, you can't tell me that's not a fine piece of ass," Erik laughed.

"She's pretty," he said. And he did mean it. Just because he didn't find her attractive didn't mean that he couldn't see she was pretty. Based on how his best friend since childhood had startled mumbling up on his bunk, she was _very_ pretty.

"Mm, the tits alone," Erik hummed.

"She says it was a photoshoot for some friend of hers from college. She sent me one of the duds."

"She makes falling look delicious."

Macbeth rolled his eyes and tucked the photo back into the envelope. "Erik, if you're so hard up for some action, why don't you go take a shower? I'm sure you can find some wolves in the fresh meat that came in this morning." He glanced up when he heard the Erik's rough blanket shifting over his mattress.

"You're absolutely right," Erik chuckled. He hopped down from his bunk, pausing in the open door to their cell. They still had a few hours before their tier would be out in the yard. "Want me to bring you back anything?"

"Smokes," Macbeth said while grabbing his legal pad and pen. "I traded my last one for some stamps."

Erik snorted and walked out. "You should ask that sexy girl of yours to send you some stamps then," he called back.

"Shut up, Cobra."

* * *

 _June 10th, 2015_

 _Lucy,  
Sorry it took me a couple weeks to get back to you. We had a sweep of my tier because some jackass decided to flaunt his contraband where the CO's could see. I thought they were going to take the picture you sent for a minute. The people here are disgusting. But you asked about my family. I only knew my dad growing up. My mom was never in the picture. We lived in a trailer park. I didn't realize until I was older what he did for a living, but he wasn't exactly the most honest guy around. He was really good at committing fraud. I don't really like talking about him. He died before I got locked up, and I say good riddance._

 _I don't have any family left now. It was just me and him. But I do have some really close friends. Erik, he's in the same cell as me, grew up with me in the trailer park. Same with Sorano, Sawyer, and Richard. We were able to get put in the same cell because he sweet-talked the warden. I can't remember what he'd said, but it was something along the lines of me being an easy target in prison, and that he wanted to keep me safe. And then something about how it was all his fault I was locked up anyway. That's only partly true, but at least I know he's got my back. And no one messes with him. Tell me about your family. Any brothers or sisters? Or your parents? What are they like?_

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _July 15th, 2015_

 _Macbeth,  
You wouldn't believe the week I've had. Someone broke into my car when I was visiting Natsu - he's the one I told you about before who comes to town every so often to eat me out of house and home. He was doing pyrotechnic work on some indie film and asked if I wanted to drive out to Vegas to visit. Well, while I was down there, my car got broken into and my stereo was stolen. Nothing else. Just the stereo. And it wasn't even a good one, just the standard one that came with the car. I'm not sure how much you know about cars, but it's a 2002 Neon. So, not really worth a whole lot. The drive back up here to Wisconsin was nice though. Without being able to listen to the radio - I ordered one online while I was still in Vegas, and I'm having it installed this weekend - I was able to just roll down the windows and listen to the wind. And smell the wind. It's just a little different in every state. Nebraska was so earthy, so natural. Just flat plains going on for miles and miles in every direction. If I hadn't been on a time crunch, I probably would have stopped just to soak it all in, y'know? And god, Nevada is hot! It's not muggy like when I visited Georgia last year for my friend Bickslow's wedding. I was pouring sweat through the whole ceremony. It was this dry heat. I wanna go back sometime to try and figure out the best way to describe that kind of heat._

 _But you wanted to know more about my dad. I know I talked a lot about my mom before. My dad and I don't really get along very well. He wants me to take over his family business, but I don't want to. We came to an agreement though. He paid for me to go to college and get a degree that I really want, but I have to actually do something with it. He was so angry when I told him I was going to be a writer. But I think he's trying to be understanding over me making my own choices, because it's what my mom would have wanted. It's part of the reason I'm able to travel as much as I do. He wants me to be able to explore, and keep in touch with my friends._

 _You were telling me more about you and Erik though. How's everything going in there? Does he really just scour the prison looking for guys to get cozy with? That sounds strange when I write it that way._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _October 17th, 2015_

 _Lucy,  
My parole hearing is coming up soon. I'm not too optimistic about it. They usually happen every three years or so. I can't believe I've already been locked up for six years. The day after my eighteenth birthday, I got arrested. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't been so stupid. But the board is going to take one look at me, then look at my rap sheet, and they're going to send me right back to my cell. I'm gonna be stuck in here, serving out all fifteen years of this sentence._

 _I won't get out until I'm thirty-three. And by then, what's going to be left for me? A whole lot of nothing. I'm starting to see why Brooks in Shawshank Redemption wanted to go back to prison when he got out. There's nothing out there for people like me. I'm not much of a bigshot in here either, but it's what I know. Out there it's just… insane._

 _This probably doesn't make much sense to you. It took a lot out of me just to write anything today. Erik's got a few books, so maybe I'll snag one of those while he's down having dinner and a show. One of the gangs in here has been causing trouble with another gang, so they're probably gonna start a fight. Erik likes watching the others get pepper sprayed by the CO's when they start fighting. He just sits there and keeps eating his food like nothing's going on._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _October 31st, 2015_

 _Macbeth,  
Happy Halloween! I hope this reaches you before your parole hearing. Good luck with it! I want to tell you to keep your chin up, and try to believe that things will work out. But I know you'd rather be realistic about things. All I can say is that I'm happy you opened up to me in your last letter. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must be, going through this, but just remember that you can always vent to me. Even if your letters are ten pages full of all-caps text yelling, that's fine. I'd much rather you use this as an outlet to get things off your chest, rather than letting it fester._

 _There's so much to do once your out of prison, though. Have you looked into school programs that you can complete while you're still in? Or maybe you can start planning for an adventure all your own after your parole is finished. Just take a map and choose every place you want to visit, and make it into a bucket list. Tell yourself, "One day, I'll visit Niagara Falls," or "One day, I'll spit in the Grand Canyon." Anything you want. It'll give you something to look forward to, at least._

 _I think I'm going to spend tonight curled up on the couch, watching Shawshank and handing out candy to the kids coming by. I've been in the mood for some solid Morgan Freeman lately, and it's too much of a hassle to get dressed up for Halloween. If I had some friends in town right now, I'd probably dress up, but everyone's busy. I can have a lazy night for both of us, okay? Pretend you're sitting with me, watching the movie. It'll be fun._

 _-Lucy_

Macbeth's hands shook while he held the page, his pale pink lips pulled into a grimace. Life was so damn easy for her, wasn't it. She'd wished him luck on a hearing he'd already been to, one that he knew was going nowhere as soon as he saw the board and their disdainful gazes trained on him. It had to have been the fastest denial they'd ever issued. Not even an hour after he was escorted from the room, he got word that he was stuck in this stupid state prison for another three years, at minimum.

"What'd Tiggle Bitties say this time?" Erik asked from where he laid on his bunk over Macbeth's head, reading a book that he'd gotten off the library cart earlier that week.

"She said good luck on my parole shit."

"Ouch."

"And she's trying to get me to plan for a future that won't happen." Was he bitter? Of course he was. He'd gotten her letter a week after she'd written it. Her words might have been encouraging if they'd come just two days sooner. But, no. It had been too late.

"Midnight, don't talk like that," Erik sighed. "You know she was just trying to cheer you up. I bet you got all broody and shit in that letter you sent her."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters, man. You don't let a hot piece of ass like that, who's actually willing to write to you every fucking _week_ , just go because you're pissed over that shitty board's decision."

The shuffle of a boot outside their cell drew their attention to the thin, spindling man with a too-wide smile peeking through the bars. "What the fuck do you want, Kurohebi?" Macbeth spat.

"I heard you got denied," he said. "What's wrong, no conjugal visits from your girlfriend?"

Erik jumped down from his bunk and stomped over to the bars. His hand shot out and wrapped around the black shirt beneath Kurohebi's standard issue grey jumpsuit, then he pulled hard enough to bash the snaky fucker's face into the metal. "You need to roll up your fucking window, you little shit. Who said you could listen to what we're talking about?"

"Hot water!" came a shout from further down the block, prompting Erik to push Kurohebi away and walk back toward the bunk. He plopped down next to Macbeth just as a guard came walking by.

"Everything alright here?" the guard asked.

"Fine," Erik said, glaring at the other prisoner with everything his single eye could offer. "Just reminding someone not to listen in."

"Something worth talking about?"

Macbeth sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing his ponytail and not really caring all that much about it. "Parole got denied again."

As the guard walked off, he grabbed his legal pad and pen, then leaned back against the wall while trying to decide what to write back to Lucy.

"Don't be a jackass," Erik said. But that was all he said on the matter before standing and hopping back up onto his own bunk.

* * *

 _November 3rd, 2015_

 _Lucy,  
I get that you're trying to help, but do me a favor and don't. Don't try to help me. I don't need someone to vent to. I've got Erik for that, and he understands a whole lot better what I'm dealing with because he's living it every single day with me. It was stupid of me to "open up" because you just don't get it._

 _You know what else you don't get? There's nothing for me outside of prison. Of the five people in my group, three of us are in prison. Sorano is in New York right now for her job, and Richard is out in Iceland doing god only knows what. But me and Sawyer and Erik are in here. And when I get out, all anyone is ever going to see is some jackass who got arrested at eighteen and spent fifteen years in prison, and wasn't able to get out early even with good behavior. I have no special skills, Lucy. I have nothing to offer any employer. And how long do you think I'll be stuck on parole? Do you really think there's any chance of me planning any place I can go? I'll be stuck in Wisconsin for the rest of my fucking life!_

 _There's no Niagara Falls or Grand Canyon. No trips to Cancun. No trips to Vegas or anywhere._

 _And you know what? Halloween is fucking stupid, and I'm glad you're so carefree that you can just choose to sit at home and watch a movie about prison. Yeah, that sounds like a blast. I'd love to watch a movie about the place I'm currently stuck in._

 _-Macbeth_

Lucy bit her lips and crumpled the letter, then threw it across her living room. If he wanted to act like that, then fine. She wasn't going to write to him again. She tried to be understanding, but what he'd said just stung.

Of course she didn't know exactly what he was going through, but she was willing to listen. They'd been writing to one another for almost a year, and she'd started feeling like they were really getting to know each other. She'd been so sure that he was going to be her friend. And things had been going so well up until now.

With a heavy sigh, she looked across the room, to the little ball of wadded up yellow paper. Maybe she just needed to take some time. That would be for the best. She'd told him that he could vent to her, but there was a difference between ranting about what was bothering him and telling her to just go and fuck herself.

So, she just let the letter sit on the floor and turned away from it to look out the window of her apartment, at the bustling street five stories below.

* * *

They didn't call his name down at mail call again. Erik had told him to not be a jackass, but he'd gone and done it anyway. It wasn't her fault that his parole had been denied. When he read the letter again, she was trying to be nice. She was trying to be understanding. She was being a good fucking friend, and he was being a bitch.

All because he'd gotten some bad news.

Still, he went down to mail call every day at noon to see if there was a letter. He'd gotten so used to her letters coming a week after he sent his to her. Sometimes they were a couple days later, but he'd never had to wait three weeks for a letter from her before. She'd never made him wait like this.

God, he was fucking stupid.

* * *

 _December 19th, 2015_

 _Lucy,  
I'm so, so, so sorry for being a jackass to you. I shouldn't have lashed out at you over just trying to be nice to me. And it wasn't your fault at all. The day I got your letter, I'd already been sulking over my parole getting denied. Your letter came two days after the hearing. If it had been earlier, maybe I would've looked forward to that hearing. I kind of did for a bit, because talking with you, writing with you… It's given me hope._

 _You give me hope, Lucy. You make it seem like the world is just right outside my window. Like there aren't bars covering it and keeping me locked away. Your stories of all the places you go and the people you see, I always feel like I'm right there with you. And it made me start to think I could have something like that too, if I could just get out of here. I'm only twenty-four right now. If I got out now, if my parole hadn't been denied, then I could probably travel by the time I'm thirty. But they took that away from me. One stupid mistake when I was barely an adult, and my life was over._

 _But you made it easier to deal with. I shouldn't have written that letter to you. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I do want to get out of here, so badly it hurts. And I can't talk about that with the people here. Erik gets it, so I don't need to say it to him. I can talk to you about anything, and it doesn't make me look weak to the other inmates. Because they don't know what we talk about. I hope you'll give me another chance, and that you'll write to me again. Every time they call my name to let me know I've got mail from you, it brightens up my day. Because it lets me know that there's someone out there, living in the world, who still thinks about me enough to sit down and write me a letter. I don't know if it's that important to you, but it is to me. It's all I've got._

 _Please write to me again, Lucy. I'm so sorry._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _December 23rd, 2015_

 _Macbeth,  
I forgive you. I sent this out as quickly as possible, and I paid extra to make sure it gets to you in time. All I wanted was an apology from you. We don't have to waste our paper talking about it anymore. Just know that I forgive you. Also, it's super easy to get me to do it. I'm kind of a pushover when I can tell someone's sincere._

 _Your last letter had me in tears. Happy ones and sad ones. There was a lot of ugly crying over here. I want you to have everything you hope for. And I want you to know that I believe you can have it all. Everything you could ever dream of, you can do it. And I'll be there every step of the way. You just tell me what I can do to help, within reason. If you just want to talk about it, then that's fine._

 _And I'll tell you all the stories you want to hear, as long as you promise to tell me more about yourself. And your friends. I want to know everything. What was it like growing up with people so close to you? You said they all lived in the same trailer park as you, right? God, that sounds amazing, having friends that you could just walk down the road and they're right there._

 _Oh, and before I forget. The reason I wanted to make sure this got to you in time. Merry Christmas, Macbeth. Don't forget, I'm thinking of you on Christmas. I don't know what your favorite cookie is (how has this literally never come up before?!), so I hope me stuffing my face with ten different kinds of cookies that I baked all by myself will be enough. They won't let me send you cookies. I called and double-checked. But, hey, when you get out, I'd be happy to send you some Christmas cookies. Assuming I don't burn down my kitchen trying to just make them in the first place. I'm surprised I survived this year._

 _I can't wait to hear from you, Macbeth. I missed your letters too._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _January 9th, 2016_

 _Lucy,_

 _I haven't seen you in almost a year now. Do you think you could send me a newer picture? I'd send you one of myself, but I don't really have a way to get one taken in here. They update mugshots every thirteen to fifteen years, so by the time I'd get an updated one, my sentence would be up._

 _I asked for a list from the guards of the things you're allowed to send. I don't want you to think you_ _have_ _to send me anything, but at least you'll know what is and isn't allowed._

 _You wanted to know about my childhood. I have a lot of stories from back then. You talk about your own childhood like you didn't have other kids to play with. I know you're an only child, but didn't you have kids you went to school with that were friends?_

 _Also, how are those cookies coming along? Did you make a dent in all those batches yet, or are you planning on freezing them so I can have some when I'm old and grey and finally free?_

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _February 16th, 2016_

 _Macbeth,  
Sorry I didn't answer your big question from a few letters ago. Things have been hectic, so I haven't had time to really sit and think about what you'd asked. You know I'm an only child, but I guess I didn't tell you I was homeschooled. My dad paid for some stupidly expensive tutors, and after my mom died, I was just kind of left to do my schoolwork. I never got to go to a normal school until college, and there weren't any kids even close to my age in the neighborhood. When I wasn't working on school stuff, I was stuck with a nanny until I was twelve. So… super sheltered and lonely. It's kind of depressing, but that's why I like hearing about you and your friends growing up so much._

 _So, there's something important that I wanted to talk to you about. It's about why I'd started writing to you in the first place. I didn't want to put it in this letter though. I figured if I put it in a separate letter, then you could read it and then get rid of it if you wanted to. Anyway, read my second letter._

 _-Lucy_

Macbeth lifted a perfectly sculpted brow and frowned at the letter. This one was much shorter than most of her other letters. They'd been writing to one another for a little over a year, and normally her letters were pages long while she told him all about the things she did. And more about herself. And responded to the things he wrote about. He loved that her letters were so long. And he tried to think of things to talk about to fill in the space when he wrote back to her. There wasn't much really going on for him, specifically, but he often told her about the things going on in the prison. Like who Erik was sleeping with for the time being, what he thought of the other people around him. Complaining about the guards or the food. He was still getting through his own stories from when he'd been a kid. She seemed to love reading about those.

Still, there was a second letter sitting on the bunk next to him from her. And she'd said it was important. It wasn't as though he wouldn't read it, even if it hadn't been important. Hell, there had been one whole letter the year before where she told him all about some new show she'd been watching that was only on Netflix. He'd already told her that they did have television, and sometimes he was able to watch a show here and there, but it was too hard to catch new episodes of any show he might enjoy. Sometimes he missed them, and then the following week he'd be lost when it came time for the next episode.

She had started making a list of shows he mentioned though. Lucy told him that, when the time came and he was out of prison, she could find them for him online and show him how to watch them. She'd mentioned something about making a Plex server, or having a friend of hers do it for her, but he hadn't understood a lot of what she'd been talking about. Technology had changed in the past seven years.

With a shake of his head, he unfolded the second letter and began to read.

 _You might not know what this is, and that's okay, but I've had a serious squish on you since I saw your profile on Write-A-Prisoner. It was your lips that caught my attention. You have really beautiful lips. And then your bio. I never really knew what it was about your bio that drew me in. It's similar to a lot of others on that site, but… Well, maybe it was because you mentioned Erik in it - saying that you were brooding too much for his sanity - and it made me laugh. Like, genuine laughter. It was cute._

 _And after getting to know you, it's only gotten worse. And better. If that makes sense. I don't talk about this with anyone. A lot of people don't really get it, the way I feel about other people. I've never told a squish this before. I just wanted you to know, because we've been talking for a while, and I feel like it'd be alright if I finally came clean about it._

 _And, if you don't know what a squish is, then think of it like a crush but without me wanting to date you. Just get to know you, and be friends with you. I think about you a lot, Macbeth. And I think about all the things we could do together when you're out of prison. I'd love to take you on a trip somewhere. You know I travel a lot, and I'd be more than happy to take you with me - once you're allowed to legally leave the state, that is. But it's not a romantic thing. I want to do things with you as your friend. Oh, and don't think that it's because you're in prison. I just don't have crushes on people, men or women or otherwise. I don't like dating people. But the biggest reason I wrote to you to begin with, aside from the squish thing, is because I want to be your friend. And I hope that we can be friends for a really long time._

 _This probably sounds weird. I'll shut up now and go bury my face in the couch for a few hours._

* * *

 _March 4th, 2016_

 _Lucy,  
I'm honored to be your squish. _

_I've never heard of it before, but I can tell that it's something that's important to you. Is it weird that this makes so much more sense to me than what Erik keeps rambling about with his random bitches in here? I've never been interested in any of that. I didn't want to tell you though. This whole time, I've been worried that you would stop writing if you found out I don't want that with you. Or with anyone. I never have._

 _A man wrote to me one time, wanting to have something else, and I had to explain that I wasn't interested in anyone. I don't know if you're my squish though. I'm not sure if I've ever felt like that about another person before. What you said you were looking for kind of sounds like a "Best Friends Forever" kind of thing. Is that right?_

 _Oh, I have a pretty funny story for you about Erik. He reminded me of it earlier today. When we were kids, he lived down the street from me in a really nice double-wide with his grandma. We were about eight at the time, and he snuck over to my house with a jar of cookies. His grandma was a crotchety old lady, but she could_ _bake_ _. Well, he took the whole thing and we started eating them, and we'd agreed to only eat a couple so she wouldn't notice. Half an hour later, all the cookies were gone and she showed up at my trailer and smacked both of us over the head with her broom. We ran out and she chased us down the street, yelling about us eating the cookies, and hoping we got fat. It was pretty hilarious. And what made it even better was that we ran so much that we got sick, and she dragged us back to Erik's and gave us tea and crackers until we felt better. She was mean as hell at times, but she took really good care of all of us. Every time my dad disappeared for a few days, she said I could stay the night for as long as I wanted._

 _I really miss her. I know Erik misses her too, but he refuses to write to her. He always says that she's too ashamed of him to answer. Or to even accept a letter from him. If I knew where she lived now, I would write to her myself, just to see if he's full of it. But she might have moved._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

He stretched out on the bunk with her letter lying on his chest. In his hand was a picture he hadn't been expecting in the slightest. Both times, he'd asked her for a new picture, but this time she'd just sent one on her own. And she looked beautiful in it with her pale pink sundress and a lace shawl covering her shoulders. She was looking right at the camera with her long hair braided and draped over one shoulder while she smiled and smelled a flower that he didn't know the name of. Maybe she'd sent it so he could feel like he was out in the summer sun with her, smelling that same flower. Based on the quality of the picture, he assumed that her friend Rufus had asked her to model for more pictures. He was starting his own business, from what she'd written in a letter the month before, so maybe this was going to be one of the shots in Rufus' portfolio.

Macbeth set the picture down on his chest and opened the letter.

 _June 7th, 2017_

 _Macbeth,  
I went to the fair they had recently, and met up with Natsu. He was in town again. I swear, that boy can eat his weight in junk food. I may have also eaten my weight in funnel cakes. We stumbled upon Rufus and he took us out into the woods, and it was just beautiful out there. I had him snap a few pictures so I could send one to you. I know, I sent you one a few months ago when you asked, but I thought it might be a nice surprise. Maybe I should've sent the one Natsu took on my phone of me stuffing my face with deep fried Snickers. It wasn't pretty. Actually, next time I have a really embarrassing photo like that, I'll send it to you. Maybe with no context, just to mess with you. Like the time I went flying down a flight of stairs while trying to catch an ornament that my neighbor's daughter made at school. Nearly broke my neck, but I caught the ornament and she was able to give it to her grandfather on Christmas._

 _But anyway, we were talking about the squish thing. I had an idea of how you could figure it out. Maybe._

 _Look at this picture and try to imagine doing something with me. Imagine we're sitting next to each other in a white room, and we can do anything we want. Anything at all. This room is magical, and can change into anything you want it to. Wanna be in the woods? It'll take us there. On top of a skyscraper? We'll be there. (I'm afraid of heights though - not that you could tell with how often I'm falling off of high things, I guess - so I'll ask that, if we're on a skyscraper, you provide me with a parachute.)_

 _What do you imagine we're doing? If it's talking, spending time together, watching a movie, even hugging or holding hands like you would with a friend - if you do that sort of thing - then it's a squish. If it's just friendship, but like… more than friendship… it's a squish._

 _But if it's more intimate - maybe not sexual, per se, but like… going all Lady and the Tramp and eating off the same plate, or having a picnic at midnight on the beach, then it's a crush. If it's got the romance stuff in there, that's a crush, not a squish._

 _And if it's neither of those things, that's fine too. It took me a long time to figure out what to call all the different things for it. There's this website that I read that helped me figure it out. I know you can't get online, so I'll print out the pages for you and send them in my next letter, if you're interested._

 _For me, I don't have crushes. I never have. I have squishes. I don't like romantic things for myself. I like romantic movies though. Go figure. And sometimes, I see something that's romantic as just something happening between friends. So, if you took me out to a nice dinner with candles all over the place and there were violins in the background, I'd still just see it as me and my friend having dinner with some really nice ambience and music._

 _I hope that helps._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _June 15th, 2017_

 _Lucy,  
I think… Maybe it's a squish with you? I'd like to read that website stuff you talked about before. But I'd really love to sit and talk with you. Just spending time with you... That sounds like the best day ever. I'm not really one for touching though, so you'd have to give me some time to get used to you before we could hold hands._

 _I do like romantic things though. Going out to dinner, seeing a movie, things like that. I only ever went on a few dates before I got locked up, but I enjoyed them._

 _I've only ever told this to Erik, when we came to prison, but I don't date people because they're usually looking for sex to go along with it. It just doesn't sound appealing. I've never done it, but I tried watching porn when I was younger. Even the mild stuff wasn't appealing. I can't picture myself doing that with anyone. It's not that it grosses me out, I'd just rather spend my time with someone that I really care about without anything else attached to it. When I went on dates before, things always got awkward when the woman I was with wanted something more. It kind of made me give up on that whole thing._

 _I think this is the first time I've really felt comfortable talking about this. With Erik, I knew he just didn't get it. He's kind of a slut in here. But he's also gay, so it works out for him. And he's able to take care of himself, so people end up coming to him for protection. He trades it for sex or whatever he wants._

 _But with you, I know you get it. Maybe not the sex part, but at least the part where there's something that I'm just not interested in when everyone else seems to be. Is there a word for this? All I know is that I like women, I just don't want to have sex with them._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _June 25th, 2017_

 _Macbeth,_

 _I'm smiling so much right now. My squish might be squishing back. And not touching is okay. I'm a hugger though. Especially when I'm greeting people. But knowing that you're not like that is good. I wouldn't want to push any boundaries, y'know? I had to put all the stuff I printed out in another envelope, but you should be getting them at the same time. The prison has a forty page limit per piece of mail, so I figured it was better to have as much information as possible in one, and then my letter in another._

 _What you were telling me about is in the huge packet though. I'd rather you read through it and figure that out for yourself, because I don't want to just label you on my own. You should be the one to decide where your own situation fits in._

 _Do you like nature? There's this great park I've been meaning to go to on the border with Minnesota, and it's supposed to have some of the best trails in all of Wisconsin. We could go there and walk around and just talk for hours. Maybe we'd even be able to find some deer or something. I've always wanted to see a stag out in the wild. I know it'd never happen, but wouldn't it be cool to actually touch their antlers? Without getting poked in the eye, preferably._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _July 8th, 2017_

 _Lucy,_

 _I wasn't all that into nature before getting locked up, but I have a feeling I just might enjoy it more whenever I get out. Is it strange that I want to jump in a huge pile of fall leaves? I think you'd probably be a great partner for leaf jumping._

 _I kind of like that you're a hugger. I'm not repulsed by being touched though, it just makes me anxious if I'm not expecting it. I think… maybe because I know you like hugging, it wouldn't be too bad? Or maybe I'd have to initiate it. Hands are okay though. I'm a thumb-wrestling champion. It's the one physical thing I'm able to beat Erik in that isn't based on luck like Rock Paper Scissors. We have far too much time on our hands in here._

 _Did I tell you that they moved me down to the laundry room during the day? I don't know who I angered in a past life, but having to smell old ball sweat from over two hundred of these nacho cheese bastards is seriously making me rethink my life choices. It's vile._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _August 14, 2017_

 _Macbeth,  
I will thumb-wrestle you into the ground! And if you'd rather hug me first, that's okay. _

_Oh, I have to tell you about this. I went to the bakery yesterday to get some of this delicious Hawaiian bread they make - I think they put pineapple juice in it, it is just so sinfully sweet, I can't even - and there was a sale at Sephora. I went balls to the wall in there, got a completely new set of everything. I've been toying with the idea of trying my hand at contouring, but I don't know if I really need to go that crazy with my makeup. It feels excessive. But the colors. The options. You don't even know, Macbeth. I found nirvana._

 _Also, sorry for the delayed letter. I ended up in the hospital with dehydration after a root canal gone wrong. I was a bit too medicated and didn't drink enough, and then I passed out while walking out of my building to go and get a gallon of milk. I swear, I'm not always a hot mess like this. I'm alright now, though, so no need to worry._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _September 19th, 2017_

 _Lucy,  
I think you'd look amazing with Pat McGrath MatteTrance. Look for Full Blooded, it's a deep wine color that would make your lips pop like no other. I'm partial to Deep Void, and especially matte, but that's because I'm pasty. Too much shine gives me indigestion. And yes, I used to wear makeup constantly when I wasn't locked up. I'd considered going to school for it, but there was no way I could have paid for something like that. I wish I had a picture of it to send to you. Actually, there's a way you can see it! If you look up my mugshot, I was wearing makeup that day. I think my lipstick might have smudged when the cops tackled me, but it'll give you an idea, at least._

 _It kind of kills me inside that they don't allow us to have makeup. Toner and moisturizer is hard enough to come by, do you have any idea how fast I'd get shanked if I had access to even dollar store eye shadow? I watched one guy literally beat someone to death just because he had one of those perfume inserts from a Cosmo. Erik told me after the fact that some of the guys in here just smell it and pretend they're with a woman while… well, while they're_ _alone_ _. I'll put it that way._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _October 12th, 2017_

 _Macbeth,  
I mean this in the friendliest way possible, but I love you. I bought that lipstick after your recommendation, and I'm floored by it. It's so intense! I never would've tried this before, but I did a little smoky eye thing that turned out decent this time, and I'm a fierce bitch now. I'd never walk outside with this much makeup on. I'd feel like a total drag queen. I love makeup, but I'm nowhere near professional level with it._

 _And I looked up your mugshot. I'm officially jealous. I need you to get out of prison so you can come and do my makeup every single day! There was quite a bit of fangirling on my part when I zoomed in on the picture to look at your eyeliner. How do you get such a fine point like that? Every time I try, it just doesn't work. Maybe I need to practice a little more. I bet you'd make a killing if you did tutorial videos on YouTube. There are a ton of them, but some of these people who are making them are just… They have no business putting makeup on, let alone trying to instruct other people on how to do it._

 _Also, I checked the guidelines, and I'm allowed to get you a magazine subscription. It says on here that they'll remove the little postcard inserts before you get it so you don't try ordering anything yourself. Would it be alright if I got you a subscription? Whichever magazine you want. Actually, Erik too, if he's interested. You said he reads a lot, and I'm sure there are only so many times someone can read the same thing. It'll help both of you guys keep in touch with the outside world a little more. If not, then it's no big deal. Just don't say no to it if you don't want to impose on me financially. I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't afford it. Just let me know._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _October 31st, 2017_

 _Lucy,  
I would love to see you wearing makeup sometime. You strike me as a nude lip kind of woman, but you've got a great complexion to pair with reds. Would you feed my inner fashionista? Just a picture of the face. And if you send one with no makeup, I can mark it up and show you how to contour for those days when you just need a little extra edge. Give me a list of the products you've got on hand, too? It'll take some practice, but knowing what you've got to work with is a step in the right direction._

 _And Happy Halloween! Are you dressing up this year?_

 _I talked to Erik about the magazine thing. He said, "Thanks but no thanks. Tell your girlfriend to just spoil you." I swear, he will never understand that you and I are just friends._

 _The only plus side to him saying you're my girlfriend - especially where the other inmates are concerned - is that it gave him a reason to finally deal with Kurohebi's creeping ass. That jackass came into our cell when I was down in the laundry room and Erik was off with some Twink, and tried to take one of the pictures you sent me. That one with you and the flower. Redfox saw it though, and he told Erik about it after the fact. So, Erik ended up in Kurohebi's cell with Redfox, and they "reminded" him that it's a big no-no in here to try fucking with someone's girl. Which, apparently, according to them, is what you are to me._

 _Redfox saw your picture when Erik took it back, and now it's all over the block that I'm dating a supermodel. They're not wrong, I guess. You're beautiful enough to be a model, if you wanted to. But I already know you're going to be a writer. With the talent you have, I'd hate for you to waste it on something like modeling._

 _If you want to get me a subscription, I don't mind. I don't even really know where to start though, so use your best judgment. Remember when I said I was into art, and then just sort of avoided telling you what it was? It's makeup. So, if you find a great makeup magazine, I'll gladly read it. Thank you, Lucy. You really do spoil me._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _November 23rd, 2017_

 _Macbeth,_

 _Here's another picture. I hope I did this right. I followed your directions, I think. It's Thanksgiving today, and you never told me what your favorite food is. And you're not allowed to say prison food, because that's just a bold-faced lie. No one likes prison food so…_

Macbeth frowned at the awkward scribble where her sentence cut off, almost as though the pen had slipped on the page. There was more to the letter, but when his gaze travelled to the next line, it was a new date. Almost as though she'd stopped writing and picked it back up days later.

 _November 29th, 2017_

 _Sorry I cut off the earlier letter. Something big happened recently, and I really wish we could talk in more than just letters. You remember how I told you that me and my dad didn't really talk all that often? We usually got together for Christmas, maybe Thanksgiving if he wasn't busy with work. We tried to make it work, even though we couldn't get along. Well, I didn't know if he was busy this year, and I was calling him while writing to you. His secretary answered, and she was crying, and…_

 _An hour before I called, he had a stroke. I guess he was sick for a while and just never told me about it. He probably didn't want me to worry about him. I worry about people really easily, so maybe he was just trying to spare my feelings? But if I'd known he was sick, I would have tried to spend more time with him. I would have made things work so I could have some good memories of him when he was gone. He lives in Milwaukee, so it was just a couple hour drive to get to the hospital. But by the time I got there…_

 _He died. He died on Thanksgiving. He'd flatlined right when I got to his room, and I wasn't there for him. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. He was the only family I had left, and now I have to deal with lawyers and his business and… This is all just too much to do by myself. I haven't been able to stop crying since that day. We didn't get along, but he was still my dad and I still loved him. And now he's gone, and I'll never get to make things right._

 _Macbeth, I wish you were here with me. I wish you could just hold me and tell me things would work out. That everything will be alright. I wish I could just talk to you and hear your voice. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt as bad, because I'd have someone with me. I could… I don't know. I'm just so sad right now._

 _-Lucy_

"Fuck." Macbeth sat up on his bunk and stared down at the page, the little crinkled spots here and there that he could tell were from her tears falling onto the paper while she'd written to him.

Erik's head dropped down from his own bunk. "Everything alright, man?"

"No," Macbeth said, looking up at his friend. "Erik, get me a phone card. Right now."

"Wait, what? Who the hell are you gonna call?"

"Lucy."

Erik's eye widened and his head disappeared for a moment before he jumped off the top bunk. "What the hell are you talking about? You can't call her."

"Why not?" Macbeth tucked the letter into the pocket of his grey jumpsuit and stood, then lifted his mattress and started rummaging through the letters he'd gotten from Lucy. She'd given him her phone number at one point earlier that year, saying that he was welcome to call her if it was something he was interested in doing.

"Because she's your penpal, man. You don't know this girl."

"I know her better than most people," he shot back over his shoulder. "Just get me a damn phone card, Erik."

"What the hell am I getting out of this?"

He scowled and rounded on his friend, then shoved his shoulder while growling, "Don't pull that prison yard bullshit with me. Do it because I'm your friend, Erik. I do the same for you with no questions."

Erik glared and pushed him back. "What the hell is so important that you need something like this?"

"Her dad died."

"Big fucking deal."

"He died right when she got to the hospital, Erik."

"And I fucking care, because?"

Macbeth knew it was a low blow, but that didn't stop him. "What if you get out and find out Granny's dying, and when you get there, she's dead?"

"Don't fucking talk about her," Erik spat.

"Erik, you love her. We both do. And I know you'd be devastated," Macbeth said. "You've lost time with her being stuck in here, and you can never get that back. I need to talk to Lucy, because she walked into his hospital room right when he flatlined. She's messed up over this. I need to talk to her."

Erik's hands clenched into fists, and Macbeth was sure he was teetering between giving in and punching him right in the face. After a moment, Erik relaxed. "You fucking owe me for this, Macbeth," he sighed.

"Fine."

"Seriously. I'm gonna have to go and deal with Redfox to get one of his phone cards."

"Just tell me what you want when you need a favor," Macbeth said quickly.

Erik turned toward their open cell door, then looked back at his friend. "Come with me," he said, and Macbeth nearly cringed at the defeated tone in his voice. "Redfox has some fucking stamina, so you'll want the card before I do anything with him."

Macbeth nodded and followed Erik out of their cell. He knew what it meant as soon as Erik mentioned Redfox. The only people he traded things like cigarettes with were the ones he didn't find attractive. And it was no secret to anyone in their block that Redfox had a thing for men with darker skin. "I'll owe you two favors," he said softly as they walked down toward the end of the block.

"One of them is gonna be getting me some goddamn mouthwash," Erik muttered. "I swear to fucking god, he's obsessed with my mouth on his goddamn asshole."

Macbeth shuddered, but nodded all the same as they stopped in front of Redfox's cell. And he was there, sitting inside with a wicked grin, pulling his long raven hair up and away from his pierced face.

"Midnight needs a phone card to call his girl," Erik said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is that so?"

Macbeth nodded, glancing around the area to make sure no guards were nearby. "Her dad died on Thanksgiving. I need to call her."

"And who's planning on paying me for this favor?" Redfox's narrowed ruby eyes glinted when Erik stepped forward into his cell.

"Give him the card first," Erik said. He waited until Redfox reached down and grabbed one of the cards with prepaid time on it that could be used for the payphones by the guard station, then watched as it was tossed to Macbeth. "That had better be full."

"It is," Redfox said.

"Thanks, Cobra," Macbeth said softly, turning away from the cell.

"Gihi, come here ya little coffee bean."

* * *

Lucy wiped her nose and sniffed while curled up in bed. She hadn't had the energy to do much of anything lately, but there was still a lot to be done. It really didn't help that her father's funeral was set for the fourth of December. He'd been cremated, at his request, but she still had to have a funeral for him. It was mainly for his business associates. She hated it.

Her phone rang where it sat charging on the nightstand. She had half a mind not to answer it, but the lawyer handling her father's estate was supposed to be calling her sometime that day. She didn't recognize the number though. It was some 800 number, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was some telemarketer. Still, she answered. "Lucy Heartfilia, speaking. How can I-"

" _This is a pre-paid collect call from…"_ came an automated woman's voice. Lucy's brows drew together, only to fly up to her hairline a moment later.

" _Macbeth."_ His voice was a soft, rich baritone. And damnit, she couldn't breathe.

" _An inmate at… Aven State Prison,"_ the automated woman continued. _"This call is subject to recording and monitoring. To accept charges, press one-"_

She'd never pressed one faster in her life.

" _Thank you for using Securus. You may start the conversation now."_

There was a soft click, and then she knew that she was connected. He was on the other end of the line, waiting to hear her speak. "H-Hello?"

" _Lucy, is everything alright?"_

"M-Macbeth, is it really…"

He laughed, and it was a raspy little thing. She wondered if he laughed often being locked up. She could almost picture him sitting in front of a payphone, wearing the grey overalls of an inmate, smiling with the phone receiver just next to his beautiful lips. _"It's me, Lucy. I only have fifteen minutes at a time, but it's dead in here today. If we need more time, I can call you again."_

And finally, she smiled. Her tears started anew, but she didn't care. It didn't matter in the slightest that he could hear her crying. Not when he spoke again.

" _I got your letter about Thanksgiving. I can't be there with you, and this is all I can offer, but…"_

"N-No, it's fine," she sniffed. "It's perfect. Thank you, Macbeth."

" _How are you holding up?"_

* * *

 _December 3rd, 2017_

 _Lucy,  
You just need a little more highlighting in these spots, and then it's perfect. And a little more blending. This would be so much easier if I could show you. Actually, if you go look up Sorano Aguria, she could teach you. I used to do her makeup all the time when she had a date. _

_And I'm telling you, soup-sandwiches are actually pretty good. Half-cooked ramen with some meat and condiments. It's better than you'd think. I'll give you a recipe sometime, and you tell me what you think._

 _I loved talking on the phone with you today, even though the topic wasn't the most pleasant. I know you won't get this until after the funeral, but just remember that I'm thinking about you. I think about you every day. Sometimes, I read your old letters again, and I think back to how awkward things were when we first started writing to one another. I'm so sorry that you lost him like that. And like I said on the phone, if I could be there, I would in a heartbeat._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _December 9th, 2017_

 _Macbeth,  
Yukino Aguria's older sister? I had a contemporary lit class with Yukino in college. She was a freshman and I needed to fill an elective to graduate that semester. She told me her sister was my age, working for Ralph Lauren, I think. But that was a couple years ago, now. I still keep in touch with Yukino though. She's so serious sometimes, but when she drinks… Good god is she funny. She's dating this guy who goes by the name Rogue. They're adorable together. He's very romantic, and she just eats up the attention, but I think it's because he's really subtle about it. I'm happy for them._

 _And soup-sandwiches sound vile! I refuse to make that. But, I'll compromise. You make it for me, since you're clearly an expert here, and I'll give it a shot. We'll trade. You make me a soup-sandwich, and I'll make you my house-famous chicken and tomato panini thing with way too much cheese to be healthy. They're deceptively small, but so filling. I usually make them with six inches of french bread at a time, and I get a solid three meals out of them. That might be because I stuff them full of chicken though. It's a very messy panini._

 _And thank you for calling me that day. It was everything I needed to hear. Even if you'd said all the wrong things, I think just hearing your voice for the first time made it perfect. You have a really nice voice. I can totally picture you being in some lounge with a guitar, just dropping the panties of all your fans - men and women alike. Do you like singing? There's still so much to learn about you!_

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _December 13th, 2017_

 _Lucy,_

 _What are your plans for the holidays? We don't really do much here. Also, thank you for the magazines. I told Erik you wanted a list of books from him, like you asked. He made a joke about my girlfriend hitting on him. I made sure to tell him it's not like that, we're just friends. You have no idea how many times he's asked me if I'm not just gay. I'm pretty sure he'd be happy to find out if I was._

 _We've been writing for three years now, and I still have to remind him that it's different with us. He doesn't get it. But you do._

 _I'm so happy that you started writing to me, Lucy. It's made being locked up at least a little bearable. And it's a deal. We'll trade my horrible prison food for that delicious sounding sandwich. I'm already drooling a little bit._

 _Oh, and thank you for sending money for my account. Erik will be happy to know that he doesn't have to do anymore favors for Redfox for phone cards - even though, I swear, he's really not all that opposed to having time alone with Redfox. There's chemistry between them._

 _Tell me what day you're free and I'll make sure to call you again so we can talk. If it's busy down by the phones, they're really strict about the fifteen minute rule. You might have to wait a while to talk to me whatever day it is if I'm not first in line. And trying to call you back might not happen in the same day. I'd have to go to the end of whatever line is there._

 _Still, I'm looking forward to talking to you again. And to answer your question, no I don't sing. I'm not good at it, and after enough times of hearing Erik complain that I was going to damage his hearing, I stopped trying. Not that I ever seriously tried anyway. But I'm not the only one with a nice voice, I guess. Your voice fits. It's just as lovely as you are._

 _If it's alright, I'll try to call you on Christmas Eve. It's three days shy of the three-year anniversary of you writing to me, but we can just pretend, right?_

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _December 21st, 2017_

 _Macbeth,  
Mail's moving a little slower with Christmas coming up. I just got your letter today. No plans for the holidays. No family to spend it with, and my friends from college mostly moved on to bigger and better things. It's probably just as lonely for me. Well, it feels that way sometimes. I'm always looking forward to your next letter. Otherwise, it's just work and home. It'll be weird not going to see my Dad this year, and knowing that it's because he's gone and not because he has some business meeting in Tokyo or something. It's taking longer than I'd expected to get things squared away with his business, but his will signed everything over to me anyway._

 _Now, on top of figuring out how to deal with all that insanity, I have to go down to his estate sometime and decide what I'm going to do with it all. I don't need some big mansion for just me. Talk about lonely and depressing. I grew up there, and I never wanted to go back once I left for college._

 _My friend Erza came to visit last week though. She couldn't make it for the funeral, but she'd wanted to come to be here with me. She all but forced me to take a trip out to the mountains to go skiing and take my mind off of things. I'd forgotten how competitive she could be. Oh, and I broke my ankle. Before you freak out, this isn't the first time I've broken a bone with her. Last time it was my pinky while we were playing ping pong. She's a beast._

 _But I'm just laid up in bed right now, and my neighbor Freed has been bringing me my mail. I think he might be gay, or just really metro. I'm not sure, but he's so sweet and his hair is this really enchanting shade of green. And he's British. I think he gets a kick out of me laughing over his accent. Honestly, I might be squishing on him a little. He just seems like such a great guy, and he does make a nice cup of tea. Probably all those years of practice while speaking that Queen's English. When I saw that I had a letter from you, I asked if he could stop by again later and take my letter to the post office. I hope I can get it to you before Christmas. Calling on the twenty-fourth is fine. I'll be waiting by my phone._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _February 21st, 2018_

 _Macbeth,  
You didn't call. And I didn't hear from you after my last letter. Is everything alright in there? I checked the news for the state prison and I saw that there was an attempted break-out just before Christmas. I want to say that I hope it wasn't you, and I don't believe you'd do something like that and jeopardize your freedom, but I don't know what it's like in there the way you do. _

_And you probably wouldn't have told me something like that in a letter._

 _There's a big part of me that wants to cling to the belief you wouldn't try to escape. But if that's the case, and you weren't the one who tried to run, then you'd be writing me back, right?_

 _Unless this has something to do with me saying I'm starting to squish on Freed? I don't know if you feel jealous over that, but just know that I won't get jealous if you have another squish, or ten squishes. Maybe I'm reading into it too much._

 _It's been lonely not having your letters for the past two months. My ankle's healing nicely though, and I've got this enormous boot on so I can walk around a little bit here and there. Freed still brings my mail up so I don't have to go downstairs every day. I hope you'll write me soon. I miss hearing from you._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _March 1st, 2018_

 _Lucy,  
This is Erik. Macbeth can't write to you right now. When that Redfox asshole tried to break out, Macbeth was down in the laundry room working, and he was planning on going through there to get out. Macbeth is a fucking idiot. He tried to stop Redfox, and when they started fighting, he called the guards. Macbeth isn't a fighter. He's a scrawny shit who's always depended on me when it comes to getting physical with some asshole. But he tried anyway, like a fucking moron, and got his ass kicked. _

_The guards came running and saw Redfox making a break for it, figured out what was going on and that Macbeth tried to stop it._

 _He's up in the infirmary now._

 _I went up there a couple days ago, gave some bullshit excuse about the flu. Wendy, she's one of the nurses here, called me out on it, but I told her I wanted to check on Macbeth. She says he'll be alright, but he's not ready to come back down to gen-pop._

 _He had a concussion, some cuts and bruises when he went in. He had to have stitches, since Redfox shanked him. They took him to the hospital for a while when he got an infection in the wound that they couldn't treat here. But he's fine now._

 _I paid Siegrain two packs of ramen to get some info on what's happening with Macbeth - he's awake and healing up, and he should be back down here with me again soon. Sawyer down in the mail room said you've sent a couple letters now, and they're holding onto them until he's back down here. I got your address from the letters he's got under his mattress. Hope that's alright. I figured you're probably worried about him, and I know for a fact that he's sitting up there, itching to write to you again._

 _I'll tell him that you wrote to him when he comes back though. Also, thanks for those books. They're helping to pass the time. If you wanna write back while you wait for him, that's fine with me. I'm not much for writing to people. It's pretty fucking weird, actually, since I don't know you. But you're fine in Macbeth's book, so you're fine by me._

 _Oh, and thanks for writing to him for all this time. It's really done him some good. He's not as depressing to be around anymore._

 _-Erik_

* * *

 _March 19th, 2018_

 _Lucy,_

 _I'm so glad that I asked to stop by the phones on the way back down to gen-pop. It was worth it to hear you smiling while we talked._

 _I finally finished reading all of your letters. I'm sorry (again) that you were worried, but thank you for continuing to write to me after you got that letter from Erik. I don't know what came over me. I'm back down in my cell though, and I'm healing up just fine. Erik says he won't be messing with Redfox anymore. I guess he knew about what Redfox was planning, but he'd said that I wasn't supposed to get hurt if I was down there when he made a break for it. Erik didn't tell me. I don't blame him. Erik's beyond pissed that I was hurt as badly as I was, but I_ _did_ _try stopping Redfox, even though he's twice my size._

 _I give it another two months before they're hooking up again under the pretense of favors. Erik won't admit it, but I know him. He's head over heels for Redfox. And since both of them have twenty year sentences with no chance of parole, they'll be together for a while. I just hope Erik will be alright when I do finally get out. He'll have another five years all by himself in here._

 _How's your ankle doing? I don't know how long it takes for a broken ankle to heal._

 _Freed sounds interesting, and I'm glad you've got a neighbor who's willing to help you out in a pinch. And no, it doesn't bother me that you've got another squish. I'm happy for you, really. I almost want to ask for a picture of him just to see what my squish competition is. (I'm just kidding. I really don't want a picture of some random guy. Erik might though… but he won't have the purest intentions in mind.)_

 _You're taking care of yourself though, right? I can't imagine trying to get things done while not really being able to move. Hopefully you've got your computer right there so you can scour the internet for more crap you don't really need. Your shopping habits are ridiculous._

 _Oh, when I was up in the infirmary, Wendy told me about some outlet mall that's opening up in May. They're going to have that one nerdy store you were talking about only being online. Geek something. You should go there when you're up and about, and try not to buy the whole store. I'll shop vicariously through you._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _April 2nd, 2018_

 _Macbeth,_

 _I was so happy to hear from you! I was worried sick when Erik sent that letter to me, and then when I read what happened… Please stay safe, okay? I don't care about my ankle nearly as much as I care about you staying safe. But, I guess you'll have a pretty cool scar now. My badass squish._

 _So, I have a weird question. I know you've gotten a better idea of all this stuff between us, but it's been long enough and I feel like we really know each other now. Would it be weird if I asked you to be my zucchini? If you don't want to, that's okay. I just wanted to ask._

 _I joined this group online, like a forum for people like me and you, and when I said we'd been writing to each other for three years and that we're both squishing on each other, they asked if we wanted to take it another step. I printed out what I could find about zucchinis - it feels weird to call it queerplatonic to me - so, let me know what you think. I feel like we're at that point, but I wanted your input on it._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _April 15th, 2018_

 _Lucy,_

 _That is the weirdest word for a relationship. I read the stuff you sent, and I don't know… Do you really think we're there? You've never asked me about what I did to get locked up. I don't really like talking about it in the first place, and I just assumed that you were trying to be polite, but you know everything else already. I've given you a few hints about it here and there. I don't know if you just didn't pick up on them, or if you ignored it because I wasn't blatantly saying it._

 _I'm willing to talk about it, if you wanna know, because it's you. So don't think it's something that's off limits just because it's the reason we can't meet in person. I really wish this place had a visitation system. Then we could have already met in person. Even if it was with glass between us._

 _I will say that I'm guilty. I did what I was locked up for, and I won't deny it. I'm not a violent person, though. It was robbery, plain and simple. Erik admitted to the murder charge, so his sentence is longer than mine. And yeah, we did it together. Sawyer too. He was the getaway driver. But it's okay to ask. I'm glad you want to be my zucchini (it's still a weird word for this), and I'd like that too. But not yet. After we talk some more, then maybe we can do that._

 _Thank you for asking me though. I'm sure it took a lot for you to even bring it up, and I don't want you to feel like this has to change anything between us. I just want you to know about that before you decide whether that's really something you'd want._

 _I just talked to Erik, and he told me there's some rule on that site you got my information from that says you're not allowed to ask about what I did. I can understand that for some people, but I think it's perfectly fine for us to talk about it after three and a half years of writing to each other._

 _Tell me more about that forum you were on. Did you like it?_

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _August 22nd, 2018_

 _Macbeth,  
That's really messed up, what happened when you were arrested. I don't condone what you three did, but I understand what you're saying. At least your dad won't be able to come after you anymore. And tell Erik I said thank you for giving you permission to tell me his side of things. And thank him for protecting you, alright? _

_I know we didn't know each other then, but thinking about it now makes me want to just hug you both. I had no idea when you told me before that your dad wasn't really the best out there, that you meant all of this. But he's gone now._

 _And now that I think about it, I was probably just feeding into the pressure of those people I was talking to, bringing up the zucchini thing. You're right, it's too soon for that. Sorry if I made things awkward, but I'm really glad that you were willing to be honest with me about it. That's one of the things I love about what we have. Whatever you want to call it. Maybe just friends for now?_

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _September 1st, 2018_

 _Lucy,  
Friends sounds good. Like I said, we'll get there eventually, I think. I can see it happening, but just not yet. _

_Now tell me more about this book you've decided to write. I'm glad you're going to sit down and really start working on a book. Use that degree that your father paid for, and show him that it was worth the effort you put in while in college. You'll make him proud, Lucy._

 _I read the plotting stuff you did. It seems kind of bare right now. Erik told me about a book that you should look into. I swear, he will read anything you put in front of him. We've got it here, so I'll put the ISBN at the end of the letter and you can look it up. There might be a more updated version out there. I do like the ending you have planned for the story, but I'm wondering how you're planning on getting from the beginning to that point._

 _And I was wrong. It took six months for Erik and Redfox to start back up on their shenanigans. Honestly, thank god for it. He's been an ornery bastard lately. I might not understand it, but I guess he just needed one of those "grudge fucks" he talks about._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _December 19th, 2020_

 _Macbeth,  
My book is getting published! It's going to release in a couple months! This is my fifth draft of this letter, because I'm literally shaking right now! Can you believe it? It only took two years to write and edit and revise. _

_I don't think I could've done this without you. Your letters always gave me more confidence in my writing, and in life in general. And I'm so happy that you and Erik read through my drafts for different chapters. Your ideas really helped me sort out those rough spots. And Erik is oddly shrewd with his critiques, but I needed to hear it. Tell him that he should be an editor when he gets out. Shit, I'll hire him to be_ _my_ _editor when he's out!_

 _Freed is taking me out to dinner tonight to celebrate. He asked if it was alright to bring his girlfriend along, and I told him the more the merrier. I've met Levy a couple times now. Those two are so made for each other. Yukino and Rogue will be meeting us down there as well._

 _Shit I don't know what to wear tonight! Or how I'll do my makeup! I picked up another tube of that Fenty Ma'Damn red lipstick you told me about. It's one of my favorite shades now. Maybe that and a black dress? I'll get Freed to take a picture of me tonight, and I'll send it to you in my next letter. Then you can tell me if I'm looking like a serious, responsible, published author!_

 _I'm screaming right now. I'm just so happy!_

 _Tell me what's going on in there though. You were saying on the phone that some guy named Ichiya kept trying to smell you? I mean, I bet you smell nicer than most of the men in there, but still. That's just creepy._

 _PS - Happy birthday! Don't think I forgot when your birthday is. I sent some money as well, so go down to the commissary and get yourself something, okay? And yes, I know that I spoil you, but I'm allowed to spoil my squish sometimes._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _January 15th, 2021_

 _Lucy,  
You look beautiful in that book release picture you sent. Just like the kind of author I'd want to read books from. Thanks for the advance copies for me and Erik (he says thanks, too, and has threatened to gut me like a fish if I forget to tell you that he's already finished reading it, and he wants a sequel). _

_And you wrote about me in your book. You didn't have to dedicate it to me._

" _For Macbeth, without whom this book would never have come to fruition. I love you, squish."_

 _Well, I love you too, Lucy. As embarrassing as it is, and even with Erik teasing me relentlessly about it, it's good to know that you're not embarrassed about knowing me. I worry about that a lot._

 _I'm sorry to hear that Sting guy you hooked up with wasn't good in bed. You already know that Erik reads my letters over my shoulder most times. He says he'd be straight for a day just for you to get a decent lay. Sorry about him. But when you told me that you met a new guy and he was really attractive, I was rooting for you. I know you wouldn't have dated him, but even just having a casual thing to get your needs met is better than celibacy when you're not like me. Don't give up though. I'm sure there's a guy out there just waiting to rock your world._

… _Erik has volunteered himself to rock your world. I'm tempted to tell Redfox about this just to see what happens._

 _And my parole hearing is coming up in two months. Time's been flying lately. I've served eighty percent of my sentence already, so it almost seems pointless to go to the hearing, but if I can get out a little earlier, then I'm all for it. Even if I've only got three years until my sentence is up. I guess it's time to start thinking about what I'll do when I get out. I've always felt like I'd just rot in this place, even though they gave me fifteen years max. What do you think I'd be able to do when I get out? Maybe working at Sephora. Then I could help you pick out your makeup and get employee discounts on it for both of us._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _March 9th, 2021_

 _Macbeth,  
You never told me what the date was for your hearing. Did you know that if your parole is granted, they'll want to place you in a work-study program unless you have someone local that you can stay with? I mean, you don't seem like a flight risk to me. _

_I was talking with Yukino recently, and she said that she'd be happy to put you up in her spare room. She got married last year, and Rogue is pretty nice. Really quiet though. Y'know, I considered asking you to stay here with me, but that seemed like way too fast a move for us._

 _Yukino told me some stories about you though. Mostly about you and Sorano ganging up on her when she was younger, painting her face to look like a hooker. You ridiculous monster. You don't have to say yes, but it is an option for you. I'll give you her address if you want to discuss it with her. I hope that wasn't stepping over the line, but I just wanted to help._

 _Oh, and she showed me some pictures Sorano gave her from when you guys were kids. I have officially seen you with pristine makeup (unlike the smudged lipstick and grumpy face in your mugshot), and I'm so jealous right now. Twelve year old you was better with a compact than me at thirty. This isn't fair. And you're not supposed to be prettier than me! I hope you'll go back to wearing makeup when you get out. It suits you._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

 _April 17th, 2021_

 _Lucy,  
It's Erik. I'm still waiting for that sequel. I know it takes time to write, but I didn't want you to forget. I've still got another ten years in here, so just try to get a second book written before I'm out of prison, alright? And don't think I didn't notice how you wrote what me and Redfox are doing into the plot. You saucy wench. And before you even think of asking, yes, we're together now. I know you'd be asking Macbeth anyway, so I might as well just tell you myself. Nosy._

 _I know you haven't heard from Macbeth in a while. He's been sulking. He hasn't heard from the parole board yet, and I think he was starting to get his hopes up again. Don't worry, it's nothing you did. He does this every time. I keep telling him to just skip them, like I do._

 _Anyway, there's this thing going on in June, and he probably hasn't told you about it yet. It's like a Family Day sort of thing for the inmates, I guess. Neither of us have family, really - and hell no, I won't ask my grandmother to come visit me in prison, she'll sneak her broom in here and beat my ass with it - so I sent my shitty invitation thing they made over to Yukino. I wanna catch up with her, and Sorano's in Italy now._

 _But because_ _someone_ _is being a broody bitch, I figured I'd send you the invitation from Macbeth. He really does want to finally meet you. I guess he probably wanted to do it when he wasn't locked up anymore. Don't let that stop you from coming. Even if he does get word about his parole, it'll take months for the paperwork to finish processing and for him to get out of here. This'll be good for him. Write me back and let me know if you'll come, okay? You and Yukino can even ride down together._

 _-Erik_

* * *

 _May 1st, 2021_

 _Lucy,  
Please tell me Erik sent you that invitation to this ridiculous Family Day thing they're making us go through. The last thing I need is for him to convince some hooker to come down and embarrass me. That sounds like something he'd do. I wouldn't put it past him. _

_Either way, I would like it if you'd come down for that. Yukino told Erik she'll be there, so you'll have someone you already know (in person) there with you. It's probably sudden. Sorry for not writing recently. Or calling. I just wanted some time to myself for a bit. And I was re-reading your book. Erik won't shut up about it. I wonder what he's going to do if I ever get out of here._

 _Well, he told me that you're already aware of the biggest piece of prison gossip in the history of ever. The wolves started freaking out, thinking they wouldn't be able to trade their bodies for favors from Erik and Redfox. I'm guessing monogamy isn't one of their priorities while they're locked up. And yes, Ichiya is still trying to smell me, and he mumbles about 'parfum' all the time. I'm afraid to even ask what he was locked up for, but part of me thinks it's something along the lines of stalking. Or maybe he's a serial killer. I don't want to know._

 _-Macbeth_

* * *

 _May 6th, 2021_

 _Macbeth,  
I got super inspired for the sequel, so I've been writing nonstop. This will be short because I'm pretty sure carpal tunnel is coming soon. Yes, I'll definitely be there. I can't wait to finally meet you in person! And I talked with Yukino. She'll drive us both down there, since I can get lost in a paper bag. _

_It's not funny, stop laughing. I know you're thinking about that spelunking story I told you last week on the phone. Stop laughing, Macbeth. I really thought I was in another dimension, okay? Anyway, the invitation says it starts at twelve. Should I try to sneak in a candy bar for you? Snickers is your favorite, right? Well, my hand is cramping. If I don't respond by the week before, just remember I'll be seeing you soon._

 _-Lucy_

* * *

It was Wednesday June 9, 2021. Lucy was never going to forget that day, she knew, as she rode in Yukino's car down to Aven State Prison. It was the day she would finally meet her penpal of nearly seven years. But there would be plenty of people there, reuniting with their loved ones who were incarcerated. If she happened to cry a little bit, then it wouldn't be weird. Her makeup might not survive the ordeal, but that was alright. The drive was silent for the most part. Yukino wasn't one for talking much while she was driving. Lucy didn't blame her. She was five months pregnant, radiant and glowing, and still suffering from morning sickness.

She'd even offered to drive, but Yukino had turned it down. Apparently her morning sickness turned into motion sickness that could rival her husband's if she was in the passenger seat.

They finally arrived at the prison, and Lucy looked around to take everything in. The parking lot was full, but she couldn't see people milling about, waiting for this event to begin. Maybe they were already inside, meeting with their loved ones.

Yukino parked and they got out of the car. That was when Lucy really took in the place Macbeth had been living in since 2009. The towering grey walls were oppressive, weighing down on her even from where they stood in the parking lot. Rows of barbed wire lined the top of every wall, the guard towers on each corner, and even the twenty foot wall off to the left that she knew surrounded the yard where inmates were forced to spend time outside. That was always Macbeth's least favorite part of the day.

They continued walking, a little slower for Yukino's sake, and Lucy barely noticed someone standing by a uniformed officer, smoking a cigarette. They were leaning against the wall, pale and thin with bare arms crossed over a lean chest. She couldn't see the person's face from this distance, and could barely make out the color of their hair while standing in the shade. What she really noticed about them in passing was the orange and black striped skinny jeans tucked into worn combat boots.

"Erik told me about that," Yukino said, drawing Lucy's attention to her. "That's where the inmates wait for their ride to pick them up after getting released. The guard has to stay with them until their ride shows up."

Lucy nodded, looking around the parking lot again. "Are we early or something?" she asked. "Or late?"

Yukino shrugged and they stopped once they reached the shade, only a few feet from the man smoking a cigarette with the guard. "Maybe. Should we wait outside and see if anyone else shows up?"

Lucy was beyond nervous right then. She definitely needed a minute to collect herself before going inside. Before finally meeting Macbeth, and probably Erik now that she thought about it. She still hadn't a clue what he looked like, but that was because Macbeth had never told her his last name. Now that she thought about it, he _had_ written her a couple letters in the past few years. His first and last name would have to be on the envelope for the prison to mail it out.

"Lucy?" Yukino asked gently.

"Huh? Oh... Yeah, let's… let's wait a minute." Or ten. Maybe not ten. God, was Macbeth sitting inside, waiting for her to show up? Hopefully he wasn't nearly this nervous. Maybe he was just excited. And she was excited too. She was finally going to meet the man she'd been writing to for years, and it wasn't that she didn't feel safe. It was a prison. There would be guards everywhere. And she knew that Macbeth wasn't a violent person. Even Erik had told her as much. And Yukino had as well when they'd been planning this trip.

"Nervous?" Yukino asked, smiling softly at Lucy while rubbing a hand over her slightly swollen stomach.

Lucy couldn't help but laugh, even though it was mostly at herself. "Am I crazy?" she asked. "Meeting my penpal like this. It's like… I know him, but I don't."

"I don't think your crazy."

Lucy bit her lip and stared at the ground, listening to the man take another drag of his cigarette and exhale. "Maybe I am though. We've been writing to each other for almost seven years, Yukino. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I don't even know what he looks like now. We talk on the phone at least once a month, write constantly… But..."

Yukino placed a gentle hand on her elbow. "But you know _him_. He opened up to you, Lucy. That has to count for something."

She nodded quickly, then moved to lean against the nearby wall. "It does. It counts for a whole lot of somethings." How could it not? Macbeth had told her things about himself that he hadn't even told Erik, his best friend and cellmate. Those two were as close as could be, but he'd still kept part of himself hidden. Except with her. He told her everything, just like she did with him.

Of course him opening up to her meant something.

"I just… What if, when we meet, he doesn't like me?" Lucy sighed and tightened her arms around herself. "What if he was humoring me because it gave him something to do to pass the time? Even meeting me today, it could just be something for him to do. Something different. I really want him to like me."

She'd spent two whole days just deciding what to wear when she finally met him for the first time. He'd seen her wearing dresses and skirts and pants. Every sort of outfit imaginable with the exception of her mini-skirts and tube tops. And her bathing suit. But for this, she'd wanted to make a good first impression, and then she'd berated herself for it because this was Macbeth. They'd already gotten past their first impressions. It was why she'd finally decided that a pair of grey slacks with a black pinstripe blouse and black pumps was the way to go.

She had at least tried to do her makeup a little fancier this time around, just so that she could maybe show him how much she'd learned since he'd been helping her figure it all out. And she was wearing that red lipstick he'd told her he really liked.

Yukino laughed softly, shaking her head. "Lucy, everyone you meet falls in love with you."

"I don't want that with him," she muttered. But he already knew that. He understood it.

"I don't mean romantically, silly," Yukino said with a roll of her eyes. "I just mean, you're likeable. And I've known Macbeth and Erik since I was little. They've clearly made some mistakes, but they're good people. The ones they care about, in any capacity, are the most important people in their lives. And you're one of those people for Macbeth."

Lucy sighed heavily and pushed off the wall. She kind of wished that she'd been able to bring her purse with her. But all of that had been left in the car, even her cell phone. Yukino had brought her own purse, but she'd been the one driving, and she'd said that she had no problem with them wanting to confiscate her bag while they were visiting.

Her feet began moving, pulling her into a nervous line of pacing back and forth while she started to well and truly panic. It was stupid, but she just couldn't help it.

"What if I'm not though? Yukino, this was stupid. I shouldn't be here. I should've told him that we could meet when he got out, whether it was parole or when his sentence was up. Not like this. Then I could be more prepared."

She was being silly though, because Lucy had been mentally preparing for this since she'd gotten that invitation from Erik on Macbeth's behalf.

"What if I go to shake his hand or something, and he doesn't want me to? Or, god, what if my stupid brain says _Oh, here's your squish, let's just hug him because you've been dreaming about hugging him to say hello for years!_ and then I do it, and he flips out?"

She didn't see Yukino biting her lips to stop herself from laughing.

"Or!" Lucy turned and started back toward Yukino, unaware that she'd been only a foot away from the man who was in the process of putting out his cigarette on his boot. "Or what if I find a way to embarrass myself? You've met me, you know I'm a total klutz. What if my knees get stupid and shaky, and I go all _foal learning to walk_ on him?"

"Lucy, it won't be that bad," Yukino said.

"I swear to god, it wouldn't surprise me if I break my ankle again." She pressed her hands over her face, and her head tipped back in defeat. "I'm doomed. Do me a favor and murder me, okay? Right here in front of the prison, just put me out of my misery, so I don't make a fool of myself!"

There was a gentle touch on her wrists that pulled her hands away from her face. That was probably for the best. She didn't need to ruin her makeup before he even saw her. Lucy's cheeks puffed out as she let out another heavy sigh that seemed to take her soul right along with it. Her eyes stayed closed.

"I'm sure this squish of yours would rather you weren't murdered," came the soft familiar baritone voice from right in front of her. "It might ruin the surprise."

Her eyes shot open in an instant, and there he was. Standing in front of her, smiling down at her with no makeup on and what she could only describe as devious giddiness shining in his crimson eyes. And what did she do? She turned into an idiot whose mouth opened and closed with not a single sound coming out.

Macbeth had aged since she'd seen his profile all those years ago. She'd stopped looking at it when they started writing to one another, and he'd told her that he had it taken down from the site. But she knew for a fact that this was him. He was still pale as could be, and his hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that was almost completely white, save for the small section of black at the top of his head.

And she knew that voice. She'd long ago memorized the soft raspiness of it, the depth when he spoke. It was almost always as though he was whispering, forcing her to listen closer to him, but she'd always been able to hear his voice even on the phone when there was a ton of noise in the background.

"Surprise, Lucy," Macbeth chuckled.

She couldn't breathe. Not well, at least. Just short, wisping breaths passed her lips while she looked from him to Yukino, who was standing beside that guard from before. And both of them were grinning at her like they knew something she didn't. Based on the man standing in front of her, when she'd thought he would be inside, they did.

"Well, I'll go sign the paperwork," Yukino giggled. The guard escorted her into the prison through a door Lucy hadn't noticed before.

She looked back at Macbeth then, memorizing his face all over again. His long lashes and the straight line of his nose. And his full, pouty lips. "Y-You're…"

"Out on parole," he said. And still, he was smiling at her. "Sorry for not telling you. I wanted to surprise you."

"H-How… What…" She couldn't have stopped the slow smile from spreading across her lips even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to. He was here, in front of her, and it wasn't as daunting as it had seemed just a few minutes prior. He was right here, this man she'd become so close to, and… "Oh my god, you're so tall!"

Macbeth laughed, well and truly laughed at the astonishment in her voice. When he realized that he was still holding her wrists, he slowly let go. "And you're shorter than I'd imagined." At least half a foot shorter than him. He hadn't expected that.

"So there's… there's no… thing today?"

He shook his head, lifting a hand to wind his fingers around a lock of hair in his ponytail. A nervous habit that he'd never gotten around to telling her about. "Erik's idea when we got the good news," he said. "He's a sneaky asshole, but effective."

Her response was nothing but a breathless laugh. "And Yukino?"

"She and Rogue agreed to house me until I get on my feet," he said. "I've already met with my parole officer, and he's inspected the house or whatever he has to do." He smirked then, and Lucy was sure she was going to faint. He was already pretty. That look on his face had parts of her brain going haywire that she just didn't know how to deal with. Not where Macbeth was concerned. "Why do you think we said you should ride with her?"

She shook her head and still just stared at him. This was insane. More than insane. And she was sure that he understood her surprise over the whole thing, but damnit, she'd wanted to be just a little more composed than this!

But now he was out, and they could finally do the things they'd talked about for years. They could go walking down nature trails together, as long as they were in Wisconsin. They could spend the day watching movies. They could cook for each other now, and she could try those soup-sandwiches and could make him a panini. He could spend the holidays with her, helping her make cookies, and she wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Because she'd have her squish around.

And after another moment, she realized that, if he'd been standing there - and he had, considering _he_ was the man who'd been smoking a cigarette and wearing those orange and black skinny jeans - then he'd heard everything she said to Yukino. God, would someone kill her _now_?

"So…" His fingers twisted around his hair a little faster. "About that zucchini thing."

Her gaze shot back to his eyes. She hadn't realized she'd been staring at his lips until right then. "What about it?"

"Well, you asked me three years ago if I'd be your zucchini," he said slowly.

Oh, she remembered that. Vividly. She'd been a wreck while writing that letter to him, and more nervous the entire time she'd waited for his response. But she'd jumped the gun at the time, and hadn't brought it up since.

"I think I'd like that," he said. "But… I can't justify calling you my _zucchini_. It's weird."

She nodded. That made sense. Even she thought calling a partner in a relationship a _zucchini_ was a little on the odd side.

"So, can I maybe…" Her eyes widened further when she saw a light flush crossing his cheeks and his gaze darted to the ground and back to her face. "Can I say you're my super squish, instead? It's uh… much cuter than zucchini."

She nodded again. She was definitely making a complete fool of herself, she's sure of it. But could he blame her? She was blindsided by this, and he was right there, and out of prison, and good fucking lord, she hadn't expected him to be so tall! Or so pretty. He was absolutely gorgeous in person. It had been a while since she'd had this sudden zing rippling down her spine.

She could just see him lying her out in her bed and his thin, lanky body molding to hers. She might not have wanted romance with him or anyone, but that didn't mean she couldn't fantasize about the mindblowing orgasms he would give her. Well, if that was something he was actually interested in. But a bitch could dream!

"Then, if you're my super squish," he said softly, fighting the urge to take a small step closer to her. "Would it be alright if I hug you, Lucy?"

She squeaked and nodded again, honing in on the sound of his soft laugh. This was exactly what she'd hoped they could do when they met. And as his arms wrapped around her shoulders, it wasn't even a conscious thought to hug him right back. Her head turned and she listened to his quicker than normal heartbeat. But she heard it, and just knowing that he really was as nervous as she was, actually set her at ease. She melted against him, right into the warm embrace she'd dreamt about for years.

"You're the perfect height for hugs," she whispered, smiling as her eyes closed.

His chin gently touched the top of her head and he smiled as well. "You, too," he sighed. "I never thought I'd enjoy hugging someone like this."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," he said.

Her head lowered just a little, and she squeezed him just a little tighter. "You're sexy."

He couldn't stop himself from laughing about that. "Whatever you say, Lucy."

He knew she wasn't asexual like himself, just like she knew that he wasn't not aromantic like her. They'd joked before about being soulmates - he had the romance and she had the sex - and had even, at one point the year before, made up a hypothetical situation where they became a normal couple. How it would work.

What it had boiled down to, was Macbeth pretending she wasn't aromantic and building the perfect relationship based on his needs. Then Lucy pretending he wasn't asexual and building one based on her needs. They had a lot of common ground, but viewed it differently. Where he saw something as romantic, she didn't. As long as their hypothetical selves remembered to talk things out, then there wouldn't be any problems with boundaries.

He'd been honest with her at the time though, when they'd had that conversation, and had said if that was something they ended up doing in the future, he was willing to compromise. But for the time being, they were somewhere between just friends and dating. And he rather preferred this to anything else, because it was Lucy. He liked this, having her as his super squish. Knowing that he didn't have to worry about a thing where Lucy was concerned, because she understood him so much better than anyone else ever had before.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked softly, nestling his nose in her hair. God, she smelled like heaven.

"Of course." She pulled back just enough to look up at him with their arms still around each other.

With a small smile, he whispered, "You're the best friend I've ever had, too." She blushed and hugged him tighter than before just when Yukino walked out of the building. And instead of trying to pull away from her so they could leave this prison behind for good, Macbeth just kept hugging her.

 _ **.The End.**_


	15. Prepared

**A/N: Hey everyone, I know a lot of you are probably waiting for me to update my normal stories again, and I know that I posted a rather long "yeah right, that's not a drabble" in the last chapter. But I was inspired to write this, and I felt like I couldn't put it off.**

I wrote this in February, and sat on it since then. I considered and reconsidered not posting this at all, because of the content. But I'm posting it now.

 _Quick shout-out to MadSoullessQueen for helping me get through proofing this._

Many of you know that I don't put warnings at the beginning of a chapter or story (for the most part) unless it's warranted. This time, it is. Normally, I'd put this at the end, talking about the inspiration for the story and so on, but it needs to be in the beginning this time.

 _ **This is your trigger warning.**_

 ** _This_ story was inspired by (and written as a way for me to cope with) the tragic Parkland School Shooting in Florida on February 14, 2018. I'm sure you can guess where this is going. _This story is about a school shooting._ If you feel you can't read it, I understand. It was difficult for me to write it in the first place. You're not obligated to read this, and feel free to hit the back button if it's too much for you.**

 **I didn't write this to try and play off the suffering of those involved. My intention is not to be insensitive to the real victims of this shooting, or any others that have happened this year alone. My heart goes out to those who are suffering in the aftermath of this tragic event, and I hope they're able to get the counseling and help they'll need to get through this.**

 **This was simply my way of coping with my own thoughts and emotions concerning this topic.**

 **If you want to be on the safe side, go to my AO3 page and check out the tags on it there.**

* * *

 _ **Prepared  
**_ _Lucy x Freed  
Lucy & Sting  
Rated M_

* * *

She loved Monday mornings. While most of her coworkers sat around the teacher's lounge during their planning periods, lamenting the end of their weekends full of postponing grading papers, Lucy was full of energy. She was always smiling when she arrived on campus, and Mondays were her absolute favorite. Because every Monday, she was able to see her seven different classes full of students, and ask them how their weekends had gone.

And every Monday, she was free from monitoring the first lunch period, which allowed her to sit and enjoy her homemade lunch with her husband, Freed. As the head of the Social Studies Department, he usually had meetings during the second lunch period, when she was free. But on Mondays, they made time to eat together.

And that day would be no different. There was still one whole period left before lunch, and even though she didn't really like eating it at 11:30 in the morning, it was a necessity.

Lucy smiled while standing in the open doorway of her classroom, watching the students mill about in the hall. The hollow, metallic clang of lockers slamming shut was something she'd long grown accustomed to in her eight years of teaching high school. Freed walked toward her in the hall, smiling while he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder.

"See you at lunch, Mister Justine," she said as his steps slowed.

"I look forward to it, _Miss J_ ," he chuckled, brushing back his bangs and drawing her attention to the way he'd pulled his hair up that morning. It had been her idea to have those long, beautiful jade strands pulled up and away from his face. Based on the way some of the other teachers had been whispering about him that morning between first and second period, she knew it had been a good idea.

He always looked so dashing with his hair up.

Lucy rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Off to your own department upstairs," she giggled. "Your _history_ dust is sullying my pristine English floors."

His laugh was deep and full. It was the same laugh she'd fallen in love with only three years prior, and it never failed to bring a soft flush to her cheeks. He didn't stop walking, and instead turned to walk backwards while he said, "Ah, but weren't you the one who said that history and English are irrevocably intertwined?"

She didn't have a chance to respond before he turned once more and disappeared in the throng of students making their way to their classes. In just an hour, she would get to see him again. She could be patient.

Instead of dwelling on wanting to eat some delicious, reheated beef stew from their dinner the night before, Lucy turned and greeted the students walking into her classroom. "Good morning, Meredy," she said. "Milliana."

"Morning, Miss J," the girls responded, tittering over something on Milliana's phone.

"Make sure that's on silent before the bell rings," Lucy called back. They probably didn't hear her, but that was fine. She had a habit of reminding her students once class started anyway, even in the middle of the day when they should have already had their phones turned off to be fully focused on learning.

"Morning, Miss J! You ready for Halloween?"

Lucy turned and her smile widened when she saw one of her former students, Wendy Marvell, walking down the hall. "More than ready," she laughed. All of her students knew that Halloween was her favorite holiday, even though she never told them what she dressed up as. That was mostly because she had to keep that fine line between teacher and friend on her mind at all times. Wendy continued on to her class at the end of the hall, and Lucy turned back to greet more of her students.

Several loud screams, nearly shrieks in her opinion, barely filtered in from the courtyard just outside, but she paid it no mind. Lots of the kids were excited over the upcoming football game, since it was the last one of the season. Then there was the Drama Club's recent news that they would be putting on a production of _Les Miserables_ in the spring, and auditions would be happening just after Halloween.

Lucy would have paid no mind to it at all if she hadn't heard a something like firecrackers followed by a bloodcurdling scream. That was when all hell broke loose. Students fed off of each other's energy, with everyone knowing something was wrong. How could it not be? No one screamed like that for no reason, and the short burst of loud popping sounds from the courtyard didn't help matters. Students ran in every direction, bumping into one another in the hall and fighting to get away from the sounds outside.

" _Attention, this is an emergency,"_ came the assistant principal's gruff, urgent voice over the intercom. _"At this time secure everyone in a room and take roll. Everyone report directly to the nearest room with a staff member."_

She knew that could only mean one thing. The school was locking down. And based on the sounds from outside, it could only be one thing. A shooter.

"Come in, quick!" Lucy said, still holding her classroom door open and ushering students in as quickly as possible. It took too long, but she couldn't leave anyone behind. If only the doors didn't open out into the hallway. She needed to get her class secured, just like she'd been trained to do every year before school started.

Once the last student rushed in, with others moving to their own classes, she ran into the room and saw several students standing at the windows to see what was going on. They'd pulled out their phones and started recording what she was sure was pure carnage. Her class overlooked the central courtyard on campus, and if that's where the shooter had started, then it wouldn't be pretty.

"Oh my god… Oh my god!"

"Shit, is that Enno and Krov?"

"Are they dead?"

"I'm live on Facebook… Holy shit, this is…"

"Away from the windows!" Lucy shouted. "Everyone to my desk. Crouch down and stay out of sight."

She pushed past them and closed the blinds, searching the room for any other weak points. She was prepared for this. All she had to do was run through her training. All she had to do was not mess up, and keep her students safe.

She didn't know where the shooter was, or how many there were, so she couldn't evacuate. When Lucy returned to the door, she saw Mrs. Tomlinson leading her class in the opposite direction of where the shots had come from. It wasn't smart. Sure, they would be sitting ducks like this, but at least Lucy knew that there was a less likely chance of a second shooter hurting them if they stayed in the classroom.

Lucy peeked out into the hall and didn't see anyone else coming, so she removed the doorstop and pulled the door closed. And then she locked it. Several students went rushing by, possibly looking for a place to hide, but they didn't slow down at her door. She had students to take care of as it was. If they came to her room, she'd let them in, but at this point, she still had other things to do.

With that thought in mind, she made her way to the podium in front of the class and grabbed her rollbook. She remembered most of the students who had come in before this started, so she double-checked that they were all there, then took down the names of a few kids she didn't recognize, and where they were supposed to be right then.

"Has anyone seen Sting today?"

"He was in gym last period."

She bit her lips and stared down at the blank space beside Sting's name. There was always at least one trouble student in a year. One who never applied themselves. And that year, it was him. He skipped class constantly, only making an appearance when there was a test that he'd heard about beforehand. And because he was never in class, he almost always failed his tests. All she could hope was that he'd hung back in the gym and was safe with Coach Redfox.

"M-Miss J, what's going on?" Romeo, a freshman in her seventh period who was supposed to be downstairs in Dr. Vivas' Biology class, asked.

"I'm not sure," she said. She couldn't very well tell them that there was someone shooting up the fucking school, but she couldn't lie to them either. "There's an intruder, and we're on lockdown. Just try to stay calm and quiet, okay? We're gonna be alright."

She wasn't sure if she believed it, but she had to try. For their sakes, she had to make herself believe that this would blow over, and they'd be alright.

"Now, everyone silence your phones," she said softly, crouching down in front of the group of terrified students. "If these people come by, we have to make them think there's no one here."

"But they know we're on lockdown," Rufus muttered.

"But if we stay out of sight and keep the door locked, then they'll move on to an easier target." It wasn't pretty, but it was true. And she hated that they had to think of only themselves. She hated that there wasn't anything she could do for anyone else. But she'd been taught to run and hide first, and fight back as only a last resort. It was the only way to keep them all safe.

"Miss J, I'm scared."

"I want my mom…"

Lucy let out a slow breath and looked around at her students. "I'm gonna call the police," she said. "I want all of you to text your parents, your family, and let them know what's going on. Tell them you're safe right now, and we're in room 257. You can't answer any calls. We have to stay quiet. Keep everyone informed, but _don't_ call your friends in other classes."

It wasn't exactly protocol, but she knew her students. They were attached to their phones, and the least she could do was remind them that their families would be scared shitless over their wellbeing when they heard about what was happening on the news. Or on Facebook. But the key here was silence, and making phone calls and sobbing to their families would be counterproductive.

If she was a parent, that was what she would've wanted her kids to do. Text her and let her know that they were safe, and where they were so she could keep tabs on the situation.

"How come?"

"We have to stay quiet," she said, flinching when more gunshots rang out in the courtyard. "If we're quiet, we'll get through this. I swear it." Maybe if she said it enough, she would believe it too.

* * *

Sting had been standing in the men's room on the second floor, intent on skipping his fourth period English class with Miss J, when he heard the shots. He'd spent enough time with his father down at the gun range - learning how to shoot his rifle - to recognize that quick report of gunfire. He couldn't tell the difference between an AR-15 and an AK-47 based on the sound alone, but he knew it was a rifle. And he knew it was, at the very least, a semi-automatic.

Just like he knew that he was shit out of luck. Because like hell was he going to curl up on top of a damn toilet and hope this psychopath didn't come into the bathroom. He'd be a sitting duck, just waiting and hoping with everything he was worth that they didn't decide to shoot through the stalls, on the off chance that someone was unlucky enough to be there.

He wanted to call his dad and ask what he should do, but he already knew the answer. He needed to get to class. Because that announcement over the intercom was the same one they used when there were lockdown drills, and he knew that this was no drill. The screams alone were enough to clue him into that one.

So, Sting grabbed his bag and ran out of the bathroom in a lull between the gunfire. He hadn't a clue where it was coming from, but he needed to get to a classroom, to a teacher. He didn't want to be alone with this going on, waiting in a bathroom for someone to finally find him.

The hallway was empty, eerily empty, with lockers still open and all the classroom doors closed. He stopped at room 250 and tried to open it, only to find it locked. The lights were off inside, and he couldn't see anyone, but he tried again frantically while he heard more shots ringing out in the courtyard. Glass shattered somewhere in the distance, and students screamed in terror, and he ran. If he couldn't get into this one, then maybe the next.

At room 252, the lights were off as well, and the door was locked. No one answered, even when he shouted for help. Maybe they thought it was a trick, that he was one of the gunmen trying to get in, just to kill them. But he wasn't, and he just needed a safe place to go.

Room 254 was the same. Then room 256. This was the whole point of a lockdown, but he was the one who needed help. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone. God, he'd been so stupid for thinking of skipping class. If he'd been there on time, if he'd just been a good student for a change, then he wouldn't have been in this predicament. He wouldn't have been so fucking scared, all by himself in a hallway that could be the next place the shooters decided to mow down.

Sting turned and rushed to Miss J's classroom, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw that the light was still on. In the drills, they always turned off the lights. They were supposed to make it seem like nobody was around. But her light was on, and he could swear he heard people talking inside. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Still, he banged on the door when the handle wouldn't budge. "Help!" he shouted. "Let me in, please!"

The shots drew closer from the nearby doorway leading out toward the courtyard. Sting hit the door harder, jiggling the handle with all the strength he could muster.

"Miss J!" he yelled. "Please, open up! Please!" He'd never been happier to see his fourth period English teacher than that moment, when her worried honey eyes were staring back at him through the window in the door. He flinched when a few stray bullets pierced the door at the end of the hall, embedding themselves in lockers. "Please!"

She quickly unlocked the door, probably against her better judgment, and opened it just as the shooter kicked open the door at the end of the hall. Screams and agonized wails from other students could be heard in the distance, along with more gunfire further away. And all Sting could focus on was the rifle in the man's hands. He didn't see the deathly glare being sent his way, only how the rifle lifted higher. How he could swear he saw his body lying on the ground once the muzzle was pointed right at him.

"Shit," Miss J gasped. She grabbed Sting and dragged him inside just as a loud _crack_ ripped through the air.

His classmates screamed as more shots ricocheted down the hall. The window of their door shattered, and Sting turned just in time to see Miss J's body shudder before she went limp and slid down to the floor. He couldn't breathe. Not when he saw the bright red liquid streaking down the door.

Was this what his dad had meant when he said the first time you see someone die, it changes you? That it would break something deep inside of you, even if you didn't know the person? But Sting did know her. He knew Miss J was kind and sweet, and that she loved teaching. He knew she was married, and that she never gave up on her students - even the shitty ones like himself who skipped class and never tried to do a whole lot of anything when they did show up. He knew that she didn't deserve this, and most importantly… that it was his fault for making her open the door.

If he'd just been to class on time, if he hadn't tried to skip class…

But he had done that, and there wasn't anything he could do to change it. What he could do, and what his body decided to do before he'd even realized it, was to stop the shooter from getting to him or his classmates. Sting lunged forward and grabbed his teacher's ankles, pulling her inside and out of the line of fire. The door closed on its own, and he reached up to lock it as quickly as possible. The gunman didn't say a word though, not that he could hear, but Sting wasn't worried about that. He was more concerned with getting Miss J away from the door, getting _himself_ away from the door, and hiding along the wall by her desk with the others. Maybe they wouldn't want to cause more damage to this room. Maybe-

Sting dropped to the ground and covered Miss J's body with his own when several shots flew through the broken window of the door and sprayed haphazardly across the room, leaving holes in desks and the far wall where he normally sat when he did show up for class.

But it was silent after that, and he listened closely to the fading footsteps and disappearing pang of bullets lodging themselves in lockers further down the hall.

He drew back to look down at his teacher, his eyes widened when he saw the pained grimace pulling down her lips. "M-Miss J?"

"Are you okay, Sting?" she whispered. When her eyes opened, they glistened with tears, but she still looked so worried. And about him, of all people.

"I'm okay," he said. "But you're…" He sat up and nodded to Rufus, the smartest kid in their class, to help him move her closer to the corner. If another shooter came by, he didn't want them to know there were students in here.

Miss J's left hand crossed over her chest and pressed, hard, against the bloody fabric on her right shoulder. _'That's right… Apply pressure to a wound…'_ He'd seen it done countless times in movies, and even the night before when he'd been watching Law  & Order instead of working on his essay that was due in two weeks. So Sting removed his hoodie and pushed her hand out of the way, pressing down on the wound. She whimpered and bit her lips, but he didn't know if it was too much pressure, or not enough, or just that it was going to hurt either way.

"Someone should call the police," Rufus said, looking over at the other students. "Let them know Miss J's hurt."

"T-Turn off the lights," she said. "And s-stay quiet, guys."

* * *

Freed clutched the rollbook to his chest while silently looking at his students as they cowered in the corner. They'd had just enough time to move his bookcase to create a more secure barrier around his desk before hearing shots on the third floor.

"Call your parents," Freed said softly. "Let them know you're safe in room 336 right now. Just stay quiet." It sounded as though the shooter was gone, that whoever it was had finally moved on, but he didn't want to take any chances. They wouldn't be safe until the police arrived and handled the situation. And they couldn't assume that it was alright to leave until he heard from the office, or the police showed up to unlock the door. Even though he'd heard several students running down the hall a few minutes earlier, he couldn't just believe that it was alright to leave the classroom.

He wanted more than anything to check in with Lucy, but he had to take care of his students. And he knew that she had the same responsibility. She was just one floor below him, so close and yet so, so far away. He had to believe that she was just fine in her own classroom, and that she was taking care of her students. Their first priority had to be the students' safety.

"I want everyone to listen," he finally said after several minutes of listening to his students calling or texting their families. "The office should make an announcement when it's safe to evacuate. When I unlock the door, I want you all to pair up and go left out of the room."

They all nodded, listening intently.

"Our spot is on the track field, unless directed elsewhere by police. Do you understand?" His students nodded again. "I need you to stay together, move quickly and quietly, and focus only on getting to the track when it's time. No matter what you see outside of this room, focus on getting to the track quickly, and _safely_. Once you are safely outside, do not go _anywhere_ until you see me. I have to do a headcount to make sure we're all together."

His grip tightened on his rollbook as he looked at the terrified faces of his students. They weren't supposed to look like this. They weren't supposed to be in tears while at school. They weren't supposed to be scared while with him.

"I promise you, we'll get through this."

His attention shifted to Mickey when she sniffled and roughly wiped her eyes. "M-Mr. Justine, Ch-Chico's not breathing… She's…"

Before Freed could pull her away from her friend's lifeless body, Ryos wrapped an arm around Mickey and pulled her into his side. Her head dropped to his chest while she cried."It's okay," Ryos said, drawing several people's attention. He wasn't one for speaking during class. Ever. "They'll tell us it's safe to leave soon. Just don't look, Mickey."

Freed let out a shaky breath and focused on the crimson color of Ryos' eyes when they lifted to look at him, instead of the pooling blood on the floor only a few short feet away.

* * *

Lucy trembled as her nerves lit up with a fresh wave of pain. Someone went running down the hall, their heavy boots echoing in the silence. She wanted to believe it was the police, coming to rescue them, but then there were more shots being fired. And then they were gone.

"Someone grab my rollbook," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "R-Rufus?" He was closest to where she'd dropped it when Sting had showed up. She knew that she could trust him to keep a good hold on it. And if she wasn't able to get out to their evacuation spot, then he could direct the others there and keep them organized. "Wh-When they let us go, unlock the door… P-Pair up and stay together, okay? W-We have to go out to the t-track and-"

"Miss J, it's alright," Rufus said gently. "We'll follow the class next door, and I'll tell the teacher what happened."

Sting sniffled and wiped at the tears in his eyes, uncaring of how her blood had stained his hands and smeared over his cheek. He'd been so strong, so sure of himself while putting pressure on her wounds. It hurt like a son of a bitch, though. "Don't cry, Sting." Lucy fumbled for his hand, and held tightly to it. "We're gonna be okay."

He shook his head and held her hand just as tightly. "Don't say that yet," he whispered back. He flinched when he heard screaming coming from the floor below them. But suddenly, his bright blue eyes went wide, and he looked around the room. "Minerva, do you have tampons?"

"Ugh, what?"

"Tampons," he said quickly. "Do you have some?" Lucy didn't turn to look at her, and instead just listened as Minerva shuffled through her backpack. Sting reached forward and took two tampons from Minerva, then sat back and looked into Lucy's eyes with a tremulous smile. "My dad told me about this thing they did in the military…"

She was speechless as he removed his blood-soaked jacket from her shoulder and laid it over her chest. "Wh-What…" Her eyes widened in shock when he reached under the jacket and carefully unbuttoned her blouse, then pulled the sticky fabric away from her shoulder.

It was obvious that he was on the verge of getting sick when he looked down at her shoulder. Lucy didn't even want to know how bad it was right then. Instead, she just watched while he ripped open the packaging of one tampon, pulled gently on the string, and pressed it to her shoulder. He paused though, looking back into her eyes. "Bite this…"

Her lips parted for him to push the sleeve of his jacket into her mouth, and she was more than thankful for it once he dug the plastic applicator into her shoulder and pressed down on the plunger, forcing the little bit of cotton into her wound.

"Dad said they carried tampons in case they got shot, so they could stop the bleeding," Sting said. He ripped open the second tampon and quickly pushed it into another wound. Had she been shot twice, then? It didn't really matter because Lucy was too busy fighting back a scream and trying her damnedest not to move. It hurt more than before, so much that she wasn't sure if she'd still be conscious by the time help arrived. "I need two more," he said while his fingers slipped under her slick, bloody shoulder.

She tried to help though when he rolled her onto her side. It wasn't much, but at least she tried. As he treated what she was sure were exit wounds on the back of her shoulder, she looked over to see Milliana with her phone up to her ear, staring at her with horror etched across her features.

"We're at Magnolia High," Milliana said quickly. "In room 257. The guy's shooting downstairs. Our teacher was shot." She paused, listening to the 9-1-1 operator. "Okay, yeah… Sting just shoved tampons in Miss J's shoulder…" She looked at Lucy. "Her right shoulder… She's in a lot of pain though… Okay… Okay, yeah…" She pulled the phone away from her mouth just a little. "Miss J, they said the cops are already here. Th-They'll come unlock the door when it's safe."

Lucy nodded, giving her students a pained smile just before Sting rolled her onto her back again and started carefully buttoning up her blouse.

"That should slow the bleeding down," Sting said. He removed the sleeve from her mouth, then held her hand once more, unaware of Meredy recording in the background and posting it on social media, tagging Sting in the video, and writing that he saved their teacher's life.

* * *

The door unlocked and two officers wearing vests rushed into the room with their guns drawn, sweeping across the wrecked classroom in a wide berth. They stopped and looked down at the cowering students whose hands were raised with their fingers spread, just as Freed had told them to do.

"Take the hall outside," one officer said. "Any injured?"

Freed stood and shook his head, then gestured to Chico while his students jumped up and rushed out in pairs. "Chico was hit through the window," he said. They nodded and waited for the students to finish filing out, and Freed finally stepped out into the hallway once he was sure none of his students were straggling behind. It took every bit of his willpower to ignore the teen bodies lying in the hall, crumpled against lockers and even on the stairs as he made his way outside.

What should have been a crisp fall air was heavy, oppressive, and filled his lungs with the scent of burning gunpowder and coppery blood. But he couldn't dawdle, and he couldn't let his students down, so he made his way down the stairs and out to the track field behind the school where his students had already collapsed into sobbing heaps on the grass. He didn't call their names. He didn't try to stop them from holding onto one another. He simply opened his rollbook and got the headcount like he was supposed to. When he noticed a few new faces in the crowd, Freed took down their names and where they belonged, writing them down with his own class.

His gaze traveled across the field, to the other milling groups of students and teachers who held onto one another for support now that they were free from the school. Finally, he withdrew his cellphone and texted Lucy. She'd been only one floor below him, and they'd most likely already evacuated her classroom.

" _On track with class. Safe and sound."_

An administrator walked by and paused when he saw Freed standing there. "Take your kids to the buses," he said, pointing across the field to the long line of twenty yellow school buses. "They're being taken to a hotel, and their parents can sign them out there."

"My wife-"

"You'll need to ride along, Freed," he said, and Freed was sure he saw some flash of emotion in his narrowed crimson eyes.

"Bickslow-"

"I haven't seen her yet, but I'll tell her you're alright if I do. Get your students on the bus, stay with them. We'll have taxis available later on to get you guys back here for your cars."

Freed nodded as Bickslow walked off to relay the message to the other teachers present. He turned back toward his class, frowning when he saw Rufus Lore from his second period History class leading a group to another part of the track. Where was their teacher?

Another teacher came up behind Rufus, placing a hand on his shoulder while he handed over a rollbook with bloody handprints on it. Something had happened to his teacher, then.

Freed turned back to his own students, glancing at his phone one more time. She hadn't texted back yet. He was left standing on the track, surrounded by terrified teenagers, waiting for her response that never came.

* * *

 ** _Five months later_**

* * *

It was a Monday again. The first Monday where everyone returned to a newly rebuilt school. Not everything had needed to be replaced, but Lucy's classroom had been one of the many that had needed some serious fixing up. It took her ten minutes the day before just to put her left hand on the brand new doorknob. She was sure the only reason she'd been able to walk into her class that morning was because Freed had been with her.

He'd been adamant about carrying her bag though, since she was still in a sling.

Each period started off the same. She welcomed her class back, reminded them that there were counselors available, and if they needed a pass down to the office at any time to speak with someone, she was happy to help. The atmosphere was subdued though. The halls no longer hummed with energy and excitement. No one slammed their lockers shut now, the sound far too similar to those shots that still echoed in their ears months later.

The class she dreaded the most, however, was coming up. The students she'd been with when things went south in October.

She had to step away to the teacher's lounge for a minute when the bell rang to dismiss third period. She just needed a little more time to collect herself before having to face them again. It wasn't that she was afraid of facing them. And it wasn't that she blamed any of her students for her getting hurt. Not even Sting.

But these were the ones who'd been with her, who had needed her more than anything. Most days, she felt as though she'd failed them. If it hadn't been for her therapist helping her work through everything for the past four months, Lucy seriously doubted that she would have been willing to return to work at all.

As her doctor had pointed out, though, her students needed her just as much. Even then. If they could see her, if they could know that she was healing just as they were, then maybe it would help them realize that it was possible to move on. She had physical scars, yes, but the ones that weren't visible were so much harder to deal with. So she had to be strong, and she wanted to be. This was just as much for her as it was for them. The first three periods had been difficult - mostly because she was right-handed, and couldn't lift her right arm all that well just yet - but this one was her real test.

She could do this though. Lucy took a deep breath and left the lounge just as the recorded train whistle sounded to let students know they had one minute left to get to class on time. By the time she reached room 257, the bell had rung. There were no students in the hall. No one left behind, dragging their feet.

She wondered how long that would last. How long would these kids be afraid of being left alone with no one around to protect them?

With a heavy sigh, she forced a smile onto her face and slowly pulled the door open. Half of the seats were filled, and her students were silent.

"Good morning, everyone," Lucy said while walking to the front of the room. She turned and looked at each and every one of them, memorizing their faces now that they weren't so scared and confused. For months, all she'd been able to think about was how scared they'd all looked. How much she'd wanted to protect them from everything happening outside these four walls. "I want to take a minute to welcome you all back."

"How's your shoulder, Miss J?" Meredy asked.

"Healing," she said. "I've already started physical therapy."

"Was it bad?"

"Bad enough to need surgery," she said. "But that's enough about that." Her gaze travelled across the class to the back corner. She'd expected to find Sting's seat empty. It always was. She'd just hoped more than anything that he would have come to class so she could remind herself that he was alright. "I want to remind you all that if you need to see a counselor, just ask for a pass to the office. And if you need to talk to me, I'll be available during first lunch for the rest of the year."

The administration had gotten rid of her lunch monitoring duty when they realized she was injured so badly. It wasn't like she couldn't watch over the kids, but they'd said that it would be better to not put so much stress on her at once.

"I know it's been a while since our last lesson," she said, "So we can spend today going over what we remember. This week will be a review week for you guys."

So, she carried on with her lesson plan. It was a chore to remove the cap from her marker, and when she wrote on the board, it was barely legible. She wasn't left-handed, but this would just have to suffice. Hopefully, they were listening to what she was saying instead of trying to rely on the chicken scratch and wonky, wobbly lines on the board.

Sting raised his hand, drawing her attention to his new seat in the front row. "Miss J?" he said softly.

"Yes, Sting?"

He frowned down at his desk, not looking at her for several long moments. The class was silent as he stood and walked up to her. "Can I help?" he asked. She could nearly feel how he forced himself to look her in the eye. "I-I'll write on the board for you, since… since you're hurt."

She smiled at him, the first genuine smile she'd been able to muster since returning to work, and handed him the marker. "Thank you, Sting," she whispered. "That would be wonderful."

She turned back to look at the class, and tears gathered in her eyes when she found them all smiling at her.

Meredy was the next to raise her hand. "You said that we had an essay to write," she said. "We all picked our books to write a report on."

"That's right, Meredy," Lucy said. She heard Sting write something on the board behind her. The hour continued on in the same fashion, with her students talking about what they remembered from before the incident.

As the class continued, she realized that even though they were all still healing, and the pain was still raw in each of them, things would improve. There wasn't much time left in the school year, but she would be there for her students, helping them learn and deal with what they'd gone through as best as she could.

When the class ended and she watched her students pack their belongings and file out of the room, Lucy knew that things would be alright one day.

"Miss J?"

She turned to see Sting had lingered at his desk, and smiled at him. "Thank you for helping me today, Sting."

"It's the least I could do," he said. "I just… I wanted to say thank you… for saving me."

She shook her head and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to thank me, Sting. But thank you for your quick thinking. The doctor said it probably saved my life."

His cheeks flushed a bright pink and he lowered his head bashfully. "I guess we saved each other then," he said.

"I guess we did," she said. Lucy had no illusions about forgetting what had happened. It would always be with her, a part of her that she was sure would be harder to deal with some days than others. Maybe not yet, but one day... She had hope that one day, they would all heal.

 _ **.The End.**_


End file.
